


Life Doesn't Discriminate

by Serendipitous_We_Meet_642



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Absolutely Loads of Swearing, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, M/M, Poor Aaron Burr, You Idiots, learn to love each other, probably, reincarnation hijinks ensue, the character death is in the past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 63,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25063417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serendipitous_We_Meet_642/pseuds/Serendipitous_We_Meet_642
Summary: No one knows how the universe really works.  Some say that coincidence is nothing but a practical joke played on the mind by an unfortunate case of pattern recognition.  Some say that life is a series of random accidents followed by perceived intentions.  Some say that being reborn into a second life is impossible.Andrew Ron, who once answered to the infamous name of Aaron Burr, has something a little different to say on the matter.  Something preferably hummed along to a lovely tune, something along the lines of, "Life doesn't discriminate, in who gets a second shot.  It gives, and it gives, and it gives."Or: A reincarnation fanfiction for the musical we all know and love.  Updates on Saturdays.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Maria Reynolds/Angelica Schuyler, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Comments: 82
Kudos: 142





	1. Just You Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, yo, yo, what time is it? The Fourth of July!! A day where people can celebrate all the horrible things America has done since the Revolution! Yay!
> 
> But, honestly, it might all have been worth it since it gave us this splendid musical. Sort of worth it, at least. Two-sevenths worth it.
> 
> Anyhoo, this is an edited reupload of this fanfiction, because frankly, I'm a better writer than I was, and Lin deserves the world so I want to at least give him Liechtenstein. Also, I just watched the filmed version, and holy shit. I'm feeling inspired. Let's go. 
> 
> Based on this prompt: https://hamiltonprompts.tumblr.com/post/141326351003/reincarnation-au-where-everyone-is-reincarnated - so, just so you know, awkward tension is going to be a running theme. Double yay! Another quick heads up: There will be a total of about 46 chapters to this, one for each song. Make sure to fasten your seatbelts, this is going to be a wild ride! Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a coincidence occurs.

Andrew strides down the slick sidewalk, his head hunched to prevent the rain from getting in his eyes. His bookbag swings and hits his side with each step; a rhythm that keeps tempo with the clashing voices echoing in his head.  


_He is Andrew. He is not. He is Andrew. He is not. _  
__

____

The shining lights of cars flash by in the muddled darkness of midnight as Andrew turns around a street corner, his mind focused solely on getting back to his warm apartment. Back to sweet oblivion with its distracting television shows and delicious cocoa. His head fills with the promises of heat, food, and entertainment in his near future, and it’s almost enough to blot out all the other thoughts that claw for his attention. It’s certainly enough that he doesn’t see the figure approaching until it’s too late.  


____

Maybe things would have been different if he had been paying more attention.  


____

****

****

**BANG! **  
****

__******** _ _

The next thing Andrew knows, he has been knocked to the ground. The cold of the wet pavement soaks through his clothes into his very bones. His bookbag lands to the side, books and papers scattering across the sidewalk.  


__******** _ _

“Ah, shit, sorry!” a voice says, and Andrew looks over to see a boy with dripping brown hair scrabbling to gather Andrew’s things.  


__******** _ _

“No, no, that was my fault. I didn’t look where I was going,” Andrew replies, his tone measured. He blinks the rain out of his eyes and moves to join the boy in his frantic mission to get all the fragile paper away from the dangerously deep puddles. Tired irritation builds behind the careful barrier in his mind. He shrugs it back.  


__******** _ _

Thankfully, between the two of them, they are almost entirely successful. Andrew’s textbook on Western Civilization might need the hairdryer treatment once he gets back to his apartment, but it isn’t like he needed that chapter on the American revolution, anyway.  


__******** _ _

“Sorry again.” A sheepish expression floods the boy’s face as he hands the last book to Andrew.  


__******** _ _

“It’s fine.”  


__******** _ _

“Do you need anything else or-?”  


__******** _ _

“It’s fine. Thank you.”  


__******** _ _

“Sorry,” the boy repeats, once more. Andrew has to work hard not to let the annoyance show on his face.  


__******** _ _

“It’s quite all right.”  


__******** _ _

“I’m Alex, by the way.” Andrew bites back a grimace as the boy extends a hand. Of course. The universe loves to mock him any chance it gets, after all.  


__******** _ _

Still, forced politeness has always been one of his best attributes. He won’t let it fail him now. He extends his hand as well, and it is instantly snatched into a vigorous handshake.  


__******** _ _

“Nice to meet you,” the boy insists.  


__******** _ _

“Yes, good to meet you, as well. My name is Andrew.”  


__******** _ _

“Pleasure to meet ya, Andy.”  


__******** _ _

Andrew plasters on a close-lipped smile to hide his gritted teeth. “Well, thank you for helping me pick my books up.” He turns, hoping to make a quick escape.  


__******** _ _

He only gets about a few paces away, before Alex calls out a sharp, “Wait!”  


__******** _ _

“What?”  


__******** _ _

Andrew feels a tap on his shoulder, and he spins around, alarmed that Alexander had been able to sneak up on him. He’d thought he had at least some survival skills this time around.  


__******** _ _

“Wanna exchange numbers? I’m new to the city, and I could really use an inside man, y’know?” Alex tacks a wink on at the end. He doesn’t do it well, it looks more like he’s had a momentary aneurysm, but he is obviously trying all the same.  


__******** _ _

This is beginning to get a bit ridiculous. After all this time, a different Alex showing up, speaking to Andrew with the same reverence and enthusiasm as before. In the same city, even. Really, how far does the universe think it can push Andrew before he snaps?  


__******** _ _

“Sure. Here.” He doesn’t know why, but he’s scribbling out his phone number onto a spare piece of paper so he can give it to a complete stranger. A complete stranger who is both a pest and a horrible reminder of the past that Andrew is trying so hard to leave behind.  


__******** _ _

Andrew is going to lose this second life by getting murdered in an alley, at this rate.  


__******** _ _

“Great! See ya ‘round, Andy!”  


__******** _ _

Completely ignorant to the fervent battles being waged in Andrew’s mind, Alex strolls off into the dark and stormy night. He leaves behind a disoriented man who would once have been called Aaron Burr to ponder his lot in life morosely.  


__******** _ _

Not an unfamiliar, nor uncommon, sight for New York City.  


__******** _ _

*****  


__******** _ _

Andrew does finally get to collapse on his soft couch eventually, but he isn’t greeted with the peace of mind, or at the very least the distraction of mind, that he had been hoping for. Instead, his brain swirls with guttering memories of the past.  


__******** _ _

__

_A young boy tapping his shoulder and asking him excited question after question. _  
__

__****____ ** ** _ _

_A wedding that sparkles in his memory like the bubbles in his champagne. _  
__

__****______ _ _ ** ** _ _

_A cold-faced general asking him to leave. _  
__

__****________ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

_Awe turning to frustration, an affair uncovered by accident, a political betrayal that tore his career asunder, and finally... _  
__

__****__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

**BANG! **  
****

__****________******** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

Andrew startles awake, drenched in sweat and in a state of panicked confusion. It takes a few seconds for reality to set back in. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the couch, yet here he is. Ruining his sleeping patterns with uncomfortable choices.  


__****________******** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He runs a hand over his face and manages to sit up. It feels like there is a hole in his chest, puncturing straight through his lungs and forcing any air he inhales to escape.  


__****________******** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

As surely as if he were the one who had been shot.  


__****________******** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

Pushing that thought away violently, he sits and waits for his breath to return. The attempt lasts for a few painful seconds before he gives up on the notion of filling his lungs entirely and decides to make himself hot chocolate, instead.  


__****________******** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He staggers to the kitchen and pulls out a pot from a white glossy cabinet that has been kept obsessively the same shade since he moved in. _Why can’t he just leave it all behind? _  
__

__****________****____ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He places the pot on the stove that has only been used to heat macaroni the once and turns the dial to what he hopes will be the right temperature. _Why does he have to feel regret for someone else’s choices? _  
__

__****________****______ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He pulls a packet of mix out of a cupboard; it had been a housewarming gift from a neighbor he hasn’t talked to since. He dumps the powder into the pot, then grabs a jug, fills it with water, and dumps it in as well. _Is he even Aaron Burr anymore? _  
__

__****________****________ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He stirs the mixture with the wooden ladle his mother had given him, right before he left that cold and wretched house forever. He watches as the water slowly becomes brown and the clumps steadily dissolve. He forgot to add the milk. _But is he Andrew, either? _  
__

__****________****__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

His thought patterns turn over and over themselves, stirred in the same cycle again and again. All spinning around a central question: _What is the point? _  
__

__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

Here he is, living his life again, but it doesn’t feel like a second chance. It feels like those last thirty years of aching regret all over again. It’s the same game: Feeling guilty, wishing he could do something to fix the guilt, and inevitably being unable to do anything other than live day in and day out with dissatisfaction as his guide.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

The burning smell hits his nose before his mind can register what it means, and his right hand grabs the metal handle of the pot before he can think better of it. Pain courses through it, and he instinctively drops the source of burning pain.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

The pot clangs as it hits the ground and burnt cocoa splatters all over the formerly perfectly nice kitchen tiles. Andrew wants to groan, except his mind is more preoccupied with the sizzling heat in his hands. 

__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He scrambles to the faucet; the water that comes from the tap isn’t nearly cold enough, but it helps.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He wants to scream. To rage at the world until it stops. Stops hurting him, stops pushing him into corners, stops playing with his emotions. He knows he’s being ridiculous, characterizing his own issues as the work of some sadistic, omniscient force – but he can’t help it. He’s just done.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

Just so very done.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

With a sigh that is not nearly weary enough to convey the physical and mental pain he is in, Andrew begins to clean the mess that is his floor. No doubt he will get a noise complaint from his neighbors about this whole incident, and he has no doubt that his landlord will be displeased by the new dent in the kitchen tiles. One more thing to add to the list.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

He tries to move the pot off the floor and reels back with a curse. Apparently, he hadn’t learnt his lesson thoroughly enough the first time.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

As if it can hear his thoughts, another wave of pain washes through him from his hand. It continues to protest as he forces himself to finish scrubbing the floor and tidying the cabinets. It aches on, a searing reminder of his mistake, as he goes through the motions of his nighttime ritual and finally curls himself up onto his white sheets. He suspects it’s been burned fairly badly, and he can only hope it will heal with haste. College is right around the corner, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t take notes.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

For now, he will just have to cope with the discomfort. He’s been through much worse.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

Andrew stares up at the ceiling, as blank and featureless as everything else that surrounds him. Contemplates its emptiness with his own personal brand of distanced apathy. His hands hurt, his eyes hurt, his head hurts. Everything hurts, in its own way, and his mind has been reduced to wet mush by the night’s events. But he simply can’t find it in himself to care.  


__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _

At long last, Andrew’s eyelids drift closed of their own accord, and he sleeps into a fitful sleep. A sleep that is filled with hastily scribbled letters, shouting voices, and gunshots that never stop ringing in his mind.

__****________****____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ** ** _ _


	2. We'll See Where We Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, newyorkerus classicus. If spotted, be wary and avoid getting too close. Their sarcastic attacks toward your wellbeing can be fatal in some cases.
> 
> Alex has never been good at following advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What what, updating on a weekly schedule?! Say it isn't so.
> 
> Also, happy Hamilton death day (or the day he started to die, at least)! Can't say I'm all that sad he died. I adore the musical (obviously), but I've always had it out for this particular protagonist. Something to do with the actions he took against Native Americans, slaves, anyone below the line of filthy rich, etc., I suppose.
> 
> But this Alex clearly isn't Alexander Hamilton, so it'll be fine. ;)

Alex might be new to New York City, but he knows a classic New Yorker when he sees one. All he had to look for were the tell-tale tics: The twitch of the blood vessel on the temple, the beady eyes, the razor-sharp words of dismissal.  


Alex had studied up before he got to NYC, and he knows he will need someone to help him with the transition from small island life to big city life. Someone to help him find the best cafes, the cheapest markets, the safest alleys to walk down – if there are any. Someone who can help him navigate the tricky world of crowded streets and filthy subway stations. Someone with the focus to keep up with him, and the street smarts to help him get out of the inevitable holes he will dig himself into.  


It looks like he’s found just the guy, purely by accident.  


Alex isn’t stupid. He knows that standing in the rain and attempting to make conversation with an obviously ticked-off stranger – one he’s just smashed into, of all things – isn’t a scenario that is going to win him any friends. This is why Alex has a master plan for getting this Andrew person to like him.  


It’ll start small, with little check-in texts every couple of days. Asking how he is doing, what is he up to, does he want to meet up. It'll grow from that first seed of calculated kindness, with just enough personal sharing to gain trust, just enough favors given to get into Andy’s good graces.  


Then, bam! They’ll become allies in this war they are both fighting against this bustling and grubby city.  


Alex has no illusions about forming friendships. He knows from experience that they are time-consuming and require more trust than he is willing to give anyone in his life. He is fine with being left to his own devices - better even, for the extra time and energy he can spend on creating a kinder world for himself and others.  


Alex also has no illusions about being able to make it in the “Big Apple” alone. So, his plan is set into motion.  


  
~~~***~~~  


Andrew groans as the altogether too cheerful _ding! _rings through the room. He rolls over, hoping to escape the sound by pressing his ears into his polyester pillow. The moment of silence hovers, and he waits expectantly. He’s almost started to relax, when…  
__

_Ding!  
_

_____The vindictively gleeful chirp cuts through his fabric shield with great disdain for both his desperate need for rest and his ever-present headache. Somehow, this chime sounds even more excited than the last. He hates it even more.  
_____

___Andrew rolls back to blearily grab the offending phone and scroll through his notifications to see what is so vitally urgent that it had to disturb his morning peace. Or, whatever one could call the grey twilight hours where he stares at the ceiling and thinks miserably about his life.  
___

___He irritably swipes away the notification from Netflix (he should really get around to finishing _Community _), the reminder from his calendar to go to the gym (he knows he will never go, why does he even bother with the charade), the Instagram update (he doesn’t even know why he got that accursed app to begin with), the text message- hang on. He hauls himself into a seated position and pulls up his text messages. There is one from an activism organization, one from his mother (he scrolls past it with a flicker of guilt), and one from an unknown number.  
_____

_(505)-503-4455 _  
hi, andy! it’s alex  
__

____

__

____

Ah, his most recent acquaintance. Is Alex even that? They’ve met once, under less-than-ideal circumstances. Andrew hadn’t exactly been the kindest person to him either, although he can’t quite bring himself to regret his behavior when he thinks about having to lay out all his personal possessions to dry last night.  


____

__

____

For curiosity’s sake, he scrolls down a little further to see the second text he’s been gifted with so early in the morning.  


____

__

____

__

____

____

_(505)-503-4455 _  
my full name is alexander hernandez btw. so you know im not giving you a fake name or anything  
__

____

Andrew sighs, heavily and at length. He considers simply ignoring the text and going about his day as usual. He considers responding and humoring Alex, for a little while. He considers making his thoughts and feelings on the matter of friendship very clear to this random kid, before he gets any ideas. He considers the well of overfilling memories that threaten to drown him every moment of every day, all that frustration and regret bubbling away under the surface of his mind.  


____

____

_Andrew Ron _  
Hello, Alex. How are you?  
__

_Alexander Hernandez _  
doing ok. my first week of college is coming up, and im excited :D  
__

_Andrew Ron _  
That is admirable. For my own part, I am rather anxiously awaiting this semester.  
__

_Alex? _  
i feel ya but you gotta admit its pretty exciting even if it is terrifying as shit  
__

_Andrew Ron _  
Sure.  
__

_Alexander Hamilton? _  
ooo do u know any good coffee shops that are around? i NEED caffeine  
__

_Andrew Ron _  
The Mocha of Tonight is decent and has good pastries. I like Coffee Be Black best, though.  
__

_NO, Alex _  
cool, sounds good! thank u :)  
ps are u a freshman or sophomore?  
__

_Andrew Ron _  
Freshman. You?  
Although I think I can already guess since you don’t know all the good coffee shops yet.  
__

_Alex _  
well deduced, sherlock. i am indeed fresh to this college.  
__

___God, everything about this Alex rings bells that truly should not be ringing in Andrew’s head. He seems so similar to the man he remembers, and yet so completely different. Andrew draws a hand across his face, hoping the agony of his head being crushed by invisible pincers will die down so he can think rationally for a moment. Of course it’s not him. That would be too large of a coincidence, and a ridiculous one, at that.  
___

___Andrew came back.  
___

___But that doesn’t mean anyone else gets to.  
___

___Although it is the sort of thing the universe would do, just to push it the extra mile…  
___

___It doesn’t matter. Andrew should just leave it at this, at polite banter that will eventually fade away into silence. He shouldn’t even have engaged to begin with; he has no idea for what purpose he started this inane conversation. Logically, he should block the number, be done with it, and go about his day. He has nothing to lose, that way.  
___

___Yet, Andrew is not a fool. No matter how hard he tries to run from the past, he has managed to pick up a few lessons from his previous incarnation’s mistakes. He knows that cautious calculation gained him little in his past life. Sure, it gave him a loving family... for a short time. In the end, though, what little he had been given by the universe had disintegrated in his desperately grasping hands, and he had been left with only scorn and mockery from the press, his enemies, and those he had considered his friends.  
___

___This is his second chance. This time, he’s not going to let his own foolish waiting get in the way of what life might still have to offer. He is not going to allow himself to waste another second of this newly gained time holding his breath for the universe to hand him opportunities on a platter. He is going to make his own way.  
___

___…Well, maybe he can spare a few seconds. After all, acting rashly is what caused the events of July 11th. So, he has to find a balance. Be decisive but smart. Don’t wait too long but don’t jump to conclusions too quickly.  
___

___Therefore, let the history books mark down that the text Andrew is about to send was thought through beforehand. He needs to know, after all. He needs to understand this inexorable draw he feels toward a stranger he ran into on some rainy street. He needs to be assured that the universe is not nearly as unkind as he thinks it is.  
___

___It’s at least somewhat thought through, he supposes.  
___

______

_Andrew Ron _  
Would you be interested in meeting up at Coffee Be Black in a mutual effort to prepare for college?  
__

______

______

__________

Andrew watches the grey dots churn across the screen with growing apprehension. Alex will probably shoot him down - or worse, he might actually take him up on the offer.  


__

____

__

____

__

_Alex _  
sure thing! saturday good? 10 am?  
__

__

__

______

__

Andrew can’t tell if he is smiling or grimacing as his fingers work to seal his fate.  


__

__

_Andrew Ron _  
You’re on.__


	3. Do or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cafe meetup happens. It goes both very well and very badly, depending on your definition of "well" and "badly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can now proudly say this posts every Saturday. Enjoy!

Alex finishes his sentence, his eyes darting across what he has written. It’s good, but it could be better. A few more clicks of his mouse, a couple of taps on his keyboard. Then he’ll be getting somewhere.  


His gaze briefly darts to his computer’s clock, and his mouth falls open in a nearly cartoonish display of surprise. Shit! He is supposed to be meeting Andy at the coffee place in nine minutes. Getting a chance to meet again in person so soon into their newfound allyship is a good sign, and he’s going to be throwing that away if he doesn’t show up at least moderately on time.  


Hastily sending the email off to his teacher without another glance, Alex slams the laptop’s lid, grabs as many of his textbooks as his sagging book bag will allow, and slams his creaky dorm door behind him.  


Hopefully, Andy won’t mind a tiny bit of tardiness.  


~~~***~~~  


One thing that has definitively not changed about Andrew between lifetimes is he still respects promptness. He shows up at to the cafe at 9:45 am, just to be safe. He knows before he even touches the handle of Coffee Be Black’s quaint oak door that Alex won’t be there yet. Alexander was notorious for getting too caught up with one thing or another to actually show up to most of his appointments. Most of his appointments with Burr, at least.  


_Stop acting like you know him already. Alex is not the man you-  
_

__Andrew scans the deliciously scented shop, but for better or worse, he is unable to find a single sign of the near-stranger he is supposed to be meeting. Andrew orders himself a black coffee, nabs one of the café’s most secluded armchairs, and settles in for the wait.  
__

__~~~***~~~  
__

__Alex’s blood pressure is skyrocketing by the time he screeches to a halt in front of Coffee Be Black twenty-four minutes after starting his voyage to get there. It had taken three wrong turns and ten instances of shouting “just work, goddamn you!” at his phone’s crappy GPS system to get here. He might be a bit late, but he’s just proud he was able to make it here at all, considering his constantly “recalculating” device.  
__

____

Panting, he yanks the door open to a pleasant tinkling sound. The café is nearly empty, so it doesn’t take long to spot Andy tucked away in a corner of the shop, laptop open on his lap and coffee going cold on the table next to him.  


____

“Sorry I’m late,” Alex sputters as he plops into an armchair across from Andy.  


____

“Not a problem. I hope you don’t mind that I got started without you,” Andy replies, not looking up from his laptop.  


____

“Nah, can’t blame you. So, where should we start?”  


____

“Well, what classes do you have?” Andy looks up, and Alex is struck by how dark his eyes are. Intellectually, he knows they must simply be a very dark shade of brown, but in the low light of the café, they look like black holes. Sucking in the light around them and inspecting it carefully within the cool safety of their darkness.  


____

Maybe he should have signed up for that Poetry class, after all.  


____

“Uh.” He runs through the list mentally and allows the words to spew from his tongue on automatic. “Politics in America, Microeconomics, Statistics, uhm, Sociology, and Constitutional Law.”  


____

Andy's eyebrows raise slightly. “What’s your major?”  


____

“Economics, with a minor in political science.” Alex can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He’s not really one for numbers, but he knows it’s the best track to get where he wants to go. And the reactions from other people are so worth it.  


____

“Interesting. What’s your career goal?”  


____

Huh. Andy’s reaction is, by comparison, disappointing. Typically, people ask him if he’s going to become some accountant and then get all up in arms about taxes. That, or they get all quiet and stunned, like he’s told them he wants to go into sewer work. Nothing against sewer workers, of course. Or accountants. But that’s not where Alex is headed.  


____

“I want to become a labor lawyer and help out workers who have been harmed by the companies they work for.” He’s practiced these words over and over in his head, spoken them to his mirror thousand times. It’ll count when he goes to his first job interview, and he speaks with the confidence of a man who has seen the future and already knows he’s going to get what he wants.  


____

"Very intriguing.” Andy, on the other hand, isn’t impressed. In fact, he looks a bit queasy.  


____

“What about you?”  


____

“Similar to you, I’m afraid. I’m a philosophy major, with a minor in criminal justice, planning to become a civil rights lawyer.”  


____

“That’s the dream, isn’t it? To work for the ACLU or some other charitable organization and do the big work,” Alex comments, watching as Andy’s expressions rapidly unfold and refold themselves back up again into a polite smile. It strikes him that this man would make a good politician, with a fine-tuned ability for suppressing emotions like that. He decides to say as much, “Although, if you really want to do something big for civil rights, you should become a politician. They’re the ones with the power of bills at their disposal.”  


____

Something goes very wrong with Andy’s expression for a split second. There is a flash of something ugly, something distorted and angry and panicked. It is gone so quickly that Alex is left to wonder if it was ever there, or if it was simply a trick of the poor lighting, but either way, it is seared into his memory now.  


____

“I have no interest in a career as a weasel,” Andy replies after a tense moment of silence, in which Alex tries to sort out what he just witnessed. “And I would never recommend that path to anyone else.” There is a fire burning in his too-dark eyes, even as face drops back into forced neutrality. Whether this man likes it or not, he would fit right in behind a podium in Washington DC.  


____

“Good thing we’re both going to become lawyers, then, huh?”  


____

“Indeed. Yes. Fantastic.”  


____

“Yeah.”  


____

The silence is lighter than before, at least, but it still settles awkwardly between them. Alex gets to work unpacking his frantically stuffed textbooks, unable to put that flash of _something _out of his head. It was… familiar, somehow. But not.  
__

____

__He decides to worry about it later. For now, he needs to focus on the reason he came here to begin with: Gaining trust and information.  
__

____

__“So, where are you going to school?”  
__

____

__“King’s College.”  
__

____

__A thousand lightbulbs flick on in Alex’s head at the same time. “No way! Me, too.”  
__

____

__“You’re joking,” Andy deadpans. Well, Alex thinks he’s deadpanning, anyway.  
__

____

__“Am not. That’s a crazy coincidence! Man, it’ll be even easier to study together, now.”  
__

____

__“Yes. That is true.” Andy seems to be anything but thrilled at this prospect. Alex had thought this meeting was going to speed things along, but it seems like he is losing his inside man bit by bit every minute.  
__

____

__“I’m going to go get some coffee,” he tries, “Want anything?”  
__

____

__Andy gestures vaguely at the certainly cold coffee left half-drunk in front of him. “I’m fine.”  
__

____

__“Cool. What do you recommend?”  
__

____

__“Their coffee is good.”  
__

____

__Alex wants to scream. He doesn’t, if only for the fact that he won’t allow himself to be kicked out of another café within thirty minutes of being there.  
__

____

__“Got it.” He hurries away slightly faster than typically would be considered acceptable, desperate to escape this collapsing mine-shaft of a conversation.  
__

____

__The barista behind the counter gives him a bored glare as he glances up at the fuzzy chalkboard titles, trying to figure out what “Double or Nothing” actually means. He hopes it doesn’t have nuts. He hates nuts.  
__

____

__“Are there any nuts in this?” he asks, pointing to the smudged pink letters.  
__

____

__The barista glares some more, not even looking where his finger is pointing. “No.”  
__

____

__“Good, good. I’ll have a Double or Nothing, then.” He stands about and fidgets as she turns her glare onto the coffee machine and begins preparing his drink. He should probably move out of the way to make space for more customers, but there is no one else in line, and he’s reluctant to go back to Andy just yet.  
__

____

__“Nice weather, huh?” he comments.  
__

____

__The woman’s back might be turned, but he can still feel her glare steadily burning a hole through his head. “Yup.” She pops the ‘p’ like she’s chewing bubblegum.  
__

____

__“Is it always like this in New York?”  
__

____

__“Nope.”  
__

____

__“Oh?”  
__

____

__“You’ll see when it gets to winter,” she says, facing him again with drink in hand. Alex takes it and slides what he hopes is the appropriate amount across the counter. The chalkboard isn’t very clear.  
__

____

__He wants to say something else, anything else, but the words die on his tongue, evaporating under the heat of the woman’s gaze. His people skills are failing him in a big way today.  
__

____

__“Have a nice day,” he mutters, instead, and hurries back to a conversation that is only less awkward in comparison to this one.  
__

____

__“I see you’ve met Morgan,” Andy says from inside a book, as Alex flops back into the relative safety of his armchair.  
__

____

__“What?”  
__

____

__“Morgan, at the register. I see you’ve met her.”  
__

____

__“Oh, yes. We, uh, had a… She’s very… uh, well.”  
__

____

__Andy looks up and smirks at Alex. Actually _smirks _. Alex nearly chokes on the first sip of his coffee. He hadn’t known Andy could do anything other than fake smile and grimace.  
____

____

___“She can be like that to people she doesn’t know. Trust me, she’s a lot nicer once you get to know her.”  
___

____

___“I’ll believe it once I see it.”  
___

____

___Andy tilts his head to the side, the grin fading into a slight upturn of the lips. With anyone else, Alex would think Andy was being condescending, but honestly, he thinks this is the friendliest he’s seen Andy yet.  
___

____

___“Do you want to get into studying now?”  
___

____

___“Sure thing. What subject should we start with?”  
___

____

___“Well, if I’m not mistaken, I believe we share a class – Constitutional Law. Would you like to start there?”  
___

____

___“Let’s do this.” Alex gives him a broad grin in return, and actually means it. Maybe his skills aren’t as shabby as he thought.  
___

____

____

_____~~~***~~~~  
_____

___Thus, their journey commences. Time whizzes by as they consult their textbooks and the initial homework assigned for their first week. Alex is impressed. He’d taken the time to read through the first few chapters of all his textbooks, but it seems Andy has all but memorized them word-for-word. Particularly when it comes to their shared law class – he seems to have a natural affinity for the subject.  
___

______

Speaking of subjects, the subject of taking a break doesn’t seem to occur to Andy any more than it does to Alex, so both of them spend what feels like either minutes or weeks quizzing each other back and forth. They even reenact a mock trial briefly, although Andy diverts the exercise swiftly to something else.  


______

Andy can be strange like that. He holds himself with a sort of practiced ease, and there is a flow to everything he says. He speaks like there is a river taking all his thoughts from place to place: Never hesitating, never halting. Yet, he is never caught in a torrent of rushing thoughts, as Alex often finds himself. Andy simply says things with that glorious confidence of a man that knows he can’t misstep – calmly, carefully, and coolly.  


Still, little things seem to bother him more than they probably should. It happens the most when they discuss constitutional law or politics, unfortunately. Something will get said, and Andy’s lips will thin and his eyes will harden. Sometimes, it looks like he’s trying to swallow an eel whole. Other times, it looks as though he’s just killed someone. His face will drain of all color, and he will fill the air with meaningless pleasantries or simply change the subject. Alex wonders if Andy is secretly dealing with severe social anxiety behind the iron curtains of his fake smile and his black-hole eyes. His triggers _are _extremely specific.  
__

______

__In any case, he’s weird. Alex has a good feeling about him.  
__

______

__“So,” Andy says, shattering Alex’s reverie.  
__

______

__Alex glances up, and there is a heart-stopping moment where he makes direct eye contact with his study buddy. The afternoon sunlight can only barely manage to scrape into their carved-out patch of the café, but it’s enough to shift Andy’s eyes from black holes to golden-flecked masterpieces. It’s like staring at all the individual paint strokes of a Renaissance piece and suddenly realizing just how intricate and layered the work really is. It’s like watching the sun set over the white-capped waves of the ocean and thinking about how much bigger the world is than you. It’s like a familiar memory, poised just on the edge of recollection.  
__

______

__“So,” Alex responds, intelligently.  
__

______

__“I feel like we’ve barely gotten to know each other. I know what major and minor you are, which is commendable for many people your age don’t have such… specific plans as you-”  
__

______

__“Thanks-”  
__

______

__“-but other than that, all I know is that you are someone who goes to the same college as me. And that you are new to New York City.”  
__

______

__For the sake of his pride as a part-time writer, Alex is hesitant to think of the meticulous examination he is enduring as being akin to a bug forced under a microscope. That metaphor is overused, at best. He is happy to say, however, that he feels like Andy is taking him apart piece by piece, staring intensely at each one and scanning it for imperfections.  
__

______

__“I just got here about two weeks ago,” Alex says finally, unable to think of anything else to say that will break the interminable silence, “Got early admission to the dorms, because I’m an international student, and, uh… here we are.”  
__

______

__“I see.” Again, that flash of reserved panic briefly darts across Andy’s face. Alex wonders if this guy has a problem with international students. He better not be one of those people who yells at Latinx people in Walmarts. Alex was just starting to warm up to him.  
__

______

__Another bout of silence falls between them, as stifling as ever. This meeting – and honestly, this allyship Alex is trying so hard to cultivate – is starting to seem like a bad idea yet again. There are times when it feels like they are on the same level, working smoothly together. Almost seamlessly, in fact. But then Andy will go and make things awkward again, for no apparent reason. Is Alex doing something wrong? Maybe he should say something to break the tension. Yeah, that might help.  
__

______

__What should I say?  
__

______

__Just say something, Alex. Don’t worry about it.  
__

______

__“So, how old are you?”  
__

______

__Not that. That’s just creepy.  
__

______

__Well, I had nothing else to say, okay? You said “something.”  
__

______

__Shut up, he’s talking.  
__

______

__Right, sorry.  
__

______

__Alex pulls his mind kicking and screaming back to reality just in time to completely miss whatever Andy said.  
__

______

__“What was that again?” he asks, trying to keep his distress off his face. It doesn’t seem to have worked.  
__

______

__“I said I’m nineteen,” Andrew repeats, his face intentionally blank. He is only making this more difficult.  
__

______

__“Oh, cool. I’m eighteen.”  
__

______

__“Right.”  
__

______

__This is the worst.  
__

______

__Alex starts nodding at nothing, immediately regrets it, and falls back into just doing nothing once again. Usually, Alex has too many words floating around in his brain, but now of all times, his mind is failing him. Maybe he should try simply staying quiet, for both of their sakes.  
__

______

__Then, it hits him.  
__

______

__“So, what made you want to become a lawyer?”  
__

______

__Nicely done, Alex.  
__

______

__Thank you, Alex.  
__

______

__Andy looks like he isn’t going to answer for a second, and then the words are rushing out of him as if his calm river of a mind is suddenly flooding. “It was just what I was good at. I explored other paths, but in the end, being a lawyer was the only thing I could do well. And it suits my needs, as I want a platform I can use to improve the rights of underprivileged groups. I feel- I feel a great debt to the world, and I want to repay that by making others’ lives a little better, if I can.”  
__

______

__“Oh. Wow.” Alex is granted speechless by that, which is something in its own right. He hadn’t expected that from Andy at all, but… It’s exciting, to hear someone as passionate about saving the world as he is. It’s exhilarating and heartening, in a way he hasn’t felt about a fellow human in a while.  
__

______

__“Sorry,” Andrew says, quick and sharp. He sounds angry at himself.  
__

______

__“No, no, I- It’s a good ‘wow.’ That’s a very… That’s a very commendable thing for someone your age to be dreaming of.” Alex hopes desperately Andy will get the callback and not think Alex is mocking him. He adds, just in case, “It’s really cool.”  
__

______

__“Yes, I… I suppose it is.” Andy pauses, a tumble of emotions crossing his face. They leave a softened expression in their wake, and it’s almost a real, genuine smile. “Thank you.”  
__

______

__“Hey, I just call it like I see it.”  
__

______

__“What inspired you to become a lawyer?”  
__

______

__For some reason, the question catches Alex off-guard, and he has to scramble to pull his thoughts into order. Technically speaking, he’s already given Andy The Speech, but he supposes diving into further detail won’t hurt.  
__

______

__“I wanna show the world the people who is really responsible for the messes around us. Take down the big bosses and all that. Go after the corporations that leach off regular people and then just throw them away for the stupidest of shit. Sounds like a pipe dream, I know, but I guess that’s what we’re here at college for, you know? To make our pipe dreams come true.” Alex knows he’s basically just paraphrased his own college essay, but hey, he still means every word.  
__

______

__“Well, to both of our successes, then,” Andrew says, that miniscule smile just about reaching his eyes as he raises his coffee cup in a toast.  
__

______

__“One day, the world’s gonna know our names,” Alex agreed, saluting with his own cold coffee.  
__

______

__“Of course. They’ll be on every ‘Been in an accident?’ billboard in the country,” Andrew says.  
__

______

__Alex lets out a startled laugh. Did Andy, the walking definition of stoic, just tell a joke? Man, Alex just has to know more about this guy.__

 _ _ ____


	4. I May Not Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting spooked at 3 AM is simply the Worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love each other, peeps.

The first day of college has gone great for Alex. Sure, he had been forced to punch that one racist guy who called him a “stupid Mexican” (for some reason) in Landon Hall, but compared to the rest of his life, that still left today as a fairly good one.  


He would even go as far as to say it was awesome, honestly. It’s just, everything is still very new and exciting. The stress of keeping up his academic performance will probably hit soon enough and push him back down to the ground, but for now, he is up in the clouds. Soaring.  


To make matters that much better, Alex thinks he made a pretty good impression on his peers today. When he’d corrected the Sociology professor on a historical inaccuracy, another student had laughed and muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “smart-ass.” Maybe not the fondest of praise, but Alex is going to take whatever he can get. Plus, it does mean people think he is intelligent, which is good.  


All this is to say is that when Alex slips into his dorm room, he is feeling good. Exhausted but exhilarated. He doesn’t even have any homework to worry about, not for this entire week. That study session, and all of the time he’d put in before and after it to make sure he was ready, really paid off. Now, he can finally allow himself a brief rest, to prepare for more adventures tomorrow.  


Alex goes through the motions of getting ready for sleep, although his efforts are not at all helped by his ever-growing drowsiness. He gets through the teeth cleaning phase all right, but by the time he is confronting his tiny dresser, he has already decided that his crisp white shirt and khakis probably count as sleeping clothes, anyway. He slaps face-first into bed shortly after, barely remembering to turn off the light. The distinct absence of a roommate in the bed across the room doesn’t even remotely register. He’s too far gone.  


~~~***~~~  


Alex jerks awake, eyes roving around his darkened surroundings, searching out any oddities that could have woken him up at what looks to be the dead of night. He’s all sweaty and anxious, most likely from some nightmare he can’t remember, so he decides after a minute that it might have just been that. That’s fine, then. He’s fine.  


He lays his mop of messy hair back down on his pillow and tries to intentionally relax his muscles. It is proving to be more difficult than he’d hoped. Everything is tight and wound-up, and he can’t stop himself from flinching at the slightest of sounds. Alex wraps his gold comforter tighter around himself. Maybe becoming a burrito will help.  


He’s just about to start relaxing back into sleep, when there it is. A feeling, a sound, something is drifting right on the edge of his subconscious, fuzzy enough that he can’t figure out what it is but sharp enough that it pierces the veil of bone-deep tired he can feel hazing over his perception. It’s like his very nerves are on fire, screaming that something is wrong. Very, very wrong.  


That’s when he realizes the water is on in the bathroom down the hall. It’s a distant noise, one he probably wouldn’t have been able to hear if the walls weren’t as thin as melting ice. Just someone using the bathroom in the middle of the night, nothing to worry about. Yet there it is, a constant current of sound that is unnerving him beyond all reason.  


It’s just. Why would someone be going to the bathroom at, according to his clock, 3 AM? Wait, isn’t that supposed to be some sort of bewitching hour or something? A time of supernatural relevance?  


Fear whispers its way up his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. This is how horror movies happen. If he doesn’t investigate the sound, will it go away? Or is that how he dies, by ignoring a serial killer right up until they sli-  


No. He just needs to calm down and think rationally.  


The water shuts off with a gentle clink, and all rational thought ceases in favor of listening to the silence and trying to track the movement of whatever this thing is. Is it a ghost? An alien? A murderer? Maybe just some unsuspecting college student?  


Alex can’t hear footsteps. That’s a bad sign. The lack of knowledge scares him more than anything. Every shadow has become a target, a disguise, a monster in hiding. If this thing can walk through walls, there will be no time, no way to stop it, no way to even know.  


Abruptly, his door is creaking open, and Alex is wound up so tight that he fears he will snap. His comforter is being twisted to pieces in his grip, and his breathing has stopped so he can hear better. Should he fight? Hide? Try to sleep and wait until he either wakes up or doesn’t?  


At this point, that sounds way better than living in suspense like this.  


A dark silhouette is standing in his doorway, towering in the middle of his only exit route. The pounding in Alex’s ears is getting dangerously loud and fast. Any second now, it is going to make its move. But not if he makes his first.  


With a yell that probably will wake everyone in the dorms up (good, they can get the police or the church or whatever is needed to get rid of this thing), Alex launches himself out of his bed and at the intruder. Unfortunately, with his blankets still wrapped around himself, he ends up on the floor. Screaming. Loudly.  


The shadow moves jerkily away, grabbing at the wall next to the door, but Alex regathers himself and scrambles back up in an instant. He doesn’t even know what he is hoping to accomplish, the only thing in his mind a thrumming hope for survival. He manages somehow to grab the thing by the shoulders, and he tries to use his leverage to wrench the figure out of the way so he can make his escape through the doorway. He almost succeeds, but strong arms catch him and hold him back.  


Warm arms.  


“Please, for the love of God, shut up,” a voice whispers in the dark.  


Alex pitches forward as he is suddenly released by his enemy or... or... Fumbling, Alex flicks the light switch and finds a human staring back at him. A regular human dude, with mussed-up red hair and a look of panic on his face.  


Oh. Huh.  


“You're human,” Alex says, just to make sure.  


“Yeah, yeah, I am.” The guy's expression is somehow a cross between amusement, annoyance, and abstract terror. “And your roommate, by the way. Nice to... meet you?"  


“Oh. Right. I, uh…” Alex looks helplessly at the bed on the other side of the room that he is most assuredly taking notice of now. It has a backpack on it. Oops.  


“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that.” The guy shrugs. “I was travelling in Australia, and I guess I kinda lost track of time in the rainforest. But hey, I'm here now, right? Administration hasn't murdered me yet, although maybe they sent you to do that…?”  


Alex at least has the dignity to look sheepish at that. “Yeah... sorry. About that.”  


“No problem, man. Gotta love a little adventure, even for stuff as simple as going to bed.” A grin spreads over the guy’s face. “Although I doubt anyone else in the building will see it the same way.”  


“Their loss.” Alex tries for a smile, but it turns into a yawn without his permission. “Hey, um, new roommate dude-”  


“Jason,” the guy supplies.  


“Cool. Think we could table this discussion until tomorrow morning?”  


“I don’t know. Are you likely to strangle me in my sleep?" Jason actually looks a little apprehensive, and Alex has to laugh.  


“Nah. Not yet, at least.” Alex tosses a wink in. It doesn’t work very well; Alex can’t wink on the best of days, so doing it while sleep deprived at 3 AM was a doomed prospect from the start.  


“Great. Anyway, good night... uh…”  


“Oh! Alexander Hernandez. But you can call me Alex.”  


“G'night, Alex.”  


Alex scoops his blankets up from the floor and shoots one last look at Jason before he flicks the switch again, and everything is plunged back into darkness. “Night, Jason.”


	5. The Students in the Commons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of a few lives on and off the campus of King's College.

“You’re kidding me!”  


“I’m not.”  


“No, you definitely are. I asked him just yesterday if he was with someone, and he flat-out told me he wasn’t. Was he lying or-”  


“Listen, Elena, I don’t think he meant anything by it. He’s been taking it pretty slow with Harry. Y'know what happened last time.”  


“Of course. But still… I want to know what’s going on with him. I don’t like people lying to my face, Lin.”  


“Mm-hmm.” Lin dumps herself onto the bench next to her cousin, picking at her cheap and unhealthy lunch with renewed vigor. Emotion talks really tend to take it out of her, and she feels like this one is going to be unnecessarily long and draining.  


“He only told me because he wanted advice for his date night-” Lin attempts.  


“They have a date night already? That’s fairly serious,” Elena huffs, her gaze a thousand miles away and unfortunately aimed at an unsuspecting student’s head.  


“Dude, chill. It’s no biggie. Gil only told me because they wanted advice, so it’s not like they wouldn’t have told you if you had been there. I just happened to be one that was there at that moment.” Lin rolls her eyes when she knows Elena isn’t looking and continues munching on a chicken nugget.  


“Do you think they're mad at me? You know, secretly? Gosh, have they said something to you? Is that why you’re being-” Elena’s voice dies in her throat, and she looks over at Lin, already apologetic. Lin has to restrain a long-suffering sigh in response. At least she’s too used to her cousin’s antics to take her seriously anymore.  


“Sorry. Sorry, I just… I know I’m being a pest, but I just don’t like not knowing what’s going on. I am sorry about what I said.”  


There is sincerity written into every wrinkle of Elena’s face. Lin knows she will never hold against that barrage of good-hearted pleading, so she doesn’t even bother trying.  


“You’re fine, Elena. Nobody hates you. How could they? And if anyone did, I’d beat them up for you, you know that. Anyway, I hear you, girl, but I mean, I told you about it after the fact, right? That has to count for something.”  


“Of course, and I really appreciate that you did.”  


“Yeah, whatever. Look, I’ll ask Gil if they want to tell the friend group-”  


Elena’s face lights up, and Lin doesn’t manage to suppress this sigh.  


“I’m not promising anything.”  


“Of course not.”  


“But I’ll ask.”  


“Thank you! I just, I want to congratulate them!”  


“’Course you do.”  


Elena puffs up, although Lin can’t tell if it’s in pride or offense. “Yes, of course I do.”  


“Cool. Now that that’s settled, can I have your fries?”

~~~***~~~

“A Double or Nothing, please.” Morgan’s gaze flicks to the woman across the counter, flicks away, and then flicks back in the closest she will ever come to a double-take.  


“Sure, coming right up,” she manages, while her brain computes the person standing in front of her. She’s tall, darker-skinned, with long, flowing brown hair. Obviously done by a professional stylist, and someone Morgan would really like to swap hair tips with, because whoever they are did an excellent job. Or perhaps it’s just the face underneath the sweeping locks that is keeping Morgan entranced.  


“I haven’t seen you around here before,” she comments, hoping to come across as casual as she starts throwing together the order.  


“I’m new in town. Just moved from LA to come to school here.”  


“Nice. How’s New York been treatin’ ya so far?”  


“It could do with slightly fewer rats, but that’s just my personal opinion talking.”  


Morgan laughs. “My personal opinion sounds pretty close to your personal opinion, then.”  


“Good to know someone else shares my concerns.” One glance confirms that the woman’s smile is as radiant as the rest of her. Morgan has to look away quickly to shield her eyes.  


The woman continues, somehow oblivious to Morgan’s shiftiness, “Have you lived here long?”  


“All my life. Raised here as a kiddo, you know? Tough streets, but you learn to love ‘em, rats and all.”  


Morgan risks another glance, only to see the woman nodding along thoughtfully. The woman’s eyes drift away from Morgan, taking in the rest of their surroundings. “This is a lovely place. Do you own it?”  


“Nah. My boss is a real dickhead, but he knows how to fancy a place up, at least.”  


Morgan can’t quite read the woman’s expression, but she looks surprised. “Indeed.”  


“Here’s your order.” Morgan hands over the cup, trying not to be that person and touch the woman’s hand as she does it. She just manages to succeed, although she fails completely by accident when the woman hands over her card in return. A few quick beeps, and the transaction is done. The woman gives her a slight smile this time, and a charming “have a good day”, and then she is slipping out the door. Morgan doesn’t quite know why her heart drops at the disappearance, although she can guess. Probably for the best. New York City always was the type of place for rom-com set-ups, but the follow-throughs are never quite what you wish for.  


Morgan doesn’t have long to feel the impact of that thought, because seconds later, a rather harried-looking familiar face has appeared in front of her counter.  


“Andy,” she greets, wiping away the ridiculous sad face she’d been making in favor of greeting one of her best regulars with a mischievous grin.  


“Morgan,” he says, in a tone that would sound like a warning if she didn’t know him better. He pretends to be all civil and polite, but underneath it all, he is just as much of a scoundrel as she is.  


“What’s got your knickers in a twist, huh? That new fella I saw you hanging out with propose to ya or somethin’?” she asks, as she sets about preparing his usual black coffee.  


“Propose?” He almost sounds like he is choking. Poor guy. For all his cleverness, he has never had the knack for deduction.  


“Just a joke, geez. What’s buggin’ you this badly?”  


“Nothing, I, well… It’s nothing. Just a little bit of a rough morning.”  


“Yeah? How’re classes going?”  


“Classes are fine– thank you,” he breaks off mid-sentence as she hands him his coffee and leans forward over the counter to meet him in the eye. His first sip seems to calm him a little, and he continues in his trademark steady voice, “I simply had a night that was not… ideal. The beginning of college seems to be haunting me more than I expected.” He flashes her a smile that wouldn’t even seem real if she didn’t know him.  


“Uh-huh.”  


“Your suspicion can take a hike, if you don’t mind. Now, what’s been going on with you? How are things here? Is your manager still…” he trails off, but they both know what he means.  


“Nah, he’s been all right since I gave him a lil’ talking to. I don’t wanna know how you know so much about sexual harassment, but the info you gave me was enough to get him to back off, at least for now. If anything happens, I promise you’ll be the second to know, just after the right authorities.”  


“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Now, speaking of classes, I’m running a bit late for my Criminal Justice lecture, but I’ll see you around.” Andy gives her what she can comfortably say is 65% of a smile.  


She flashes him a meaningful look in return. “See ya round, buddy. Don’t get too bogged down in homework.”  


He gives her a Look, and then he’s gone, too. What a day it’s been so far, and it’s only just begun.

~~~***~~~

“So, I’m telling you, this guy tried to tackle me. Like, he was convinced I was going to kill him or something.”  


“I cannot blame him. You do have a shifty look about you,” Gil replies, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow in Jason’s direction.  


“Thanks, dude.”  


“What Gil is trying to say,” Harry interrupts before either of them can go at it, “is we’re sorry you got paired with a weirdo, but it’s kinda your fault since you didn’t want to move into an apartment with us.”  


“Harry!” Jason protests.  


“Good one.” Gil extends a closed fist, and they do their signature exploding fist bump just like Harry taught him. He’s never been so proud.  


“So, crazy roommate, dirty bathroom, broken air vents…” Harry ticks each of the items off on his fingers. “This whole dorm situation sounds like a blast. I can’t believe we’re stuck in some beautiful apartment in Queens. We definitely got the worse deal here, don’t ya think, Gil?”  


“Oh, yes, definitely.” Gil has a glint in their eye that Harry adores.  


“You both know full well why I didn’t want to live with you guys. C’mon, Harry. Give it a rest.”  


“Nope, too much fun.” Harry gives him a prod in the side for good measure, and Jason grimaces at him.  


“I am going to have to go with Harry on this one. Too much fun.” Gil reaches across the picnic table to jab Jason’s shoulder as well. His grimace becomes even more grimace-y.  


“Yeah, yeah. Poke fun all you like, at least I don’t have to listen to you guys.”  


Gil gasps, gaspingly. “Jason, are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?”  


Jason’s grimace becomes more of a grin-ace, which okay, would be a cool if it wasn’t for the mortification on Gil’s face that Harry is determined to avenge.  


“Yeah, and we’re glad we don’t have to hear your noises either,” he says, trying to maintain a playful tone.  


“That was one time, Harry!”  


It’s Harry’s turn to raise a skeptical, although slightly less elegant brow. “Uh-huh.”  


“Whate’er. I’m going to class.” Without another word, Jason storms off. They watch him go, Gil with an unimpressed expression and Harry with a tiny amount of guilt building behind his toothy grin.  


“Think he’s actually upset?” he asks, finally.  


“He’s friends with us, Harry. By now, he doesn’t have the ability to get upset anymore. Think of it as exposure therapy.”  


That startles a laugh out of him, and he lightly punches Gil’s shoulder across the table. “Sure you’re not just talking about yourself there?”  


“Very sure.”  


“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of dialogue in this one, which was a pleasure to write. And a fun change of pace from previous Aaron/Alex centric chapters, so woohoo! Go ahead and gimme all your thoughts - I like to collect them in jars. Also, drop any guesses you have for the identities of these maybe-reincarnations in the comments below. I won't tell you one way or another, but I love seeing people just get it spot-on so go be one of those people.
> 
> One last thing: I feel like a fandom for a musical about politics in the 1700s-1800s is as good a place as any to tell you that mail-in ballots are only very rarely exploited for fraudulent purposes, and it's actually incredibly difficult to get away with it. So, whatever the current US president tells you, the election should go ahead as scheduled with as many people using mail-in ballots as can be managed. Stay safe and informed guys :)
> 
> P.S. If someone could challenge that muppet to a duel, I would be very thankful. Thanks.


	6. Don't Modulate the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alex and Andrew go on an adventure that only one of them chose.

“Alex, I don’t understand. You said in your text that this was going to be a ‘study session’.” Andrew hurries to catch up with excitable fri- acquaintance. Person he knows. Alex.  


“It is!” Alex insists. His back may be turned to Andrew, but the high-pitched lie is detectable even without a facial expression to go off.  


“Of a sort…” Alex adds, and Andrew rolls his eyes.  


“Right. So, are we actually going to be studying, or should I just leave for the library now and save myself some time?”  


“Don’t worry about it, Andy. This is going to be good.”  


“Somehow, I highly doubt that.”  


Alex slows his mad chase through the seemingly endless halls of the Lisbon Building and then abruptly stops completely in front of a classroom. He tosses a brief grin at Andrew before yanking open the door and barreling inside. Andrew can do nothing but follow. (Well, he could do something, but he’s not quite feeling like resisting the unstoppable force of his newfound acquaintance at the moment, so this course of action will have to do.)  


“Ah, hello there, students!” An older woman, most likely a professor, hastily pulls herself up from her desk, where she previously had pillowed her head on her arms. She shoots them a grin so excruciatingly bright that Andrew has to look away, examining the otherwise empty classroom they’ve found themselves in.  


“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she continues, patting down her tweed suit with an air of sudden anxiety. Andrew can sympathize.  


“This is Debate Club, right?” Alex’s eyes narrow. The calculating look in his eye is strange when worn on his enthusiastic face. “Or did I get the room wrong?” Just like that, the sharpness in his eyes has vanished and been replaced by worry of his own.  


“No, no, you’ve got the right place. Not much of a turn out, but… first week of school, and all that.” The woman bustles out from behind her desk and vigorously shakes both their hands, still bestowing that radiant smile upon them. “Do come in. The first few meetings are always slim. And maybe the next few after that, too, but if nothing else, you can debate each other, right?”  


Andrew is about to protest that suggestion, for a whole slew of reasons, but Alex is speaking before he can even open his mouth. “Sure thing! We’re both going into law, so I bet this’ll be helpful experience, no matter what.”  


“Oh, really? You know, I used to be something of a law-woman myself. I wasn’t exactly arguing at trials, but I like to think I was doing my own bit of bettering the world at the time.”  


“That’s great! Listen, my friend and I want to sign up for your club. Uh, how can we do that?” Alex’s eyes are near-sparkling now, which would be concerning if the words that accompanied the sparkles weren't as distracting as they are.  


“I don’t-” Andrew tries to interject, but Alex waves him down. Andrew does his best not to bristle at the dismissal.  


“Oh, well, you can sign this here list, and then we can jump right into things.” The woman offers them a piece of blank paper with little lines drawn all over it, presumably for outlining where to write certain information. Andrew supposes she never got around to deciding what that information would actually be. Fantastic.  


(He still signs with what he thinks is the required information. Again, to avoid a whole incident. Nothing more.)  


“Lovely, lovely! So… which of you is Andrew, and which of you is Alex?” The woman peers over her half-moon glasses and gestures between them.  


“That’s Andy, I’m Alex, great to meet your acquaintance.” Alex is at unrestrained beaming, by this point. Andrew wishes half-heartedly that he’d ignored that text and gone to the library instead.  


“Wonderful! Well, Andy and Alex, I’m Professor Mayhill. Let’s begin.”

~~~***~~~

“Yes, Alex! Come on! Put your back into it!”  


Andrew draws himself up an inch higher, desperately trying to ignore the aged professor shouting unhelpful comments at them as he prepares his counter-argument against Alex’s ridiculous proposal that the voting age should, in fact, be greater because of “teenage drama.”  


What an awful day this has become.  


“I’m simply saying, we’ve all seen Twilight. Nothing good can come from this generation having the ability to warp the world in such significant ways,” Alex closes, looking over at Andrew as if he’s already won. Clearly, this fight has only just begun.  


Andrew glares back as he opens his mouth, “That’s all well and good, but have you considered that you are-”

~~~***~~~

“Wowie. What a time. I haven’t debated with someone one-on-one like that in a while, least of all with vocal encouragements, or… whatever those were. That was fun, right?” Alex beams at him. 

Andrew throws a mournful glance back at the grey door to Classroom 204 that is thankfully receding farther and farther into the distance. There’s no way to get that time back now. God. And he had really been feeling good (well, good-ish (well, a bit better)) about the use of his time in this life. Turns out arguing with pretentious arseholes is a habit he’ll just never manage to shake.  


“It was certainly something,” he responds brusquely.  


“I thought it was fun.” The word are petulant, as though spoken by a moping child, and Andrew shoots Alex a Look. His acquaintance actually sticks his tongue out at him in response. It’s so surprising and appalling that Andrew forgets to walk for a moment. He remembers to start again before Alex can comment, but he still has to put a hand on the wall for support. He’d forgotten what teenagers are like in this day and age. Maybe Alex wasn’t so wrong about only giving voting rights to those above age 25, but then again, maybe it should just be Alex that has to live by this rule. Seems fair enough.  


“You are ridiculous,” he says aloud.  


“Yeah, well, you were the one who agreed to come with me to the club. That’s on you.”  


The glare Alex receives for that is nothing short of murderous, and Andrew doesn’t even have time to feel guilty about it because the next thing he knows, Alex is breaking out into peals of laughter.  


“Sorry, sorry.” He wipes a pretend tear of mirth from his eye, takes one look at Andrew’s stone-cold expression, and goes back to laughing uncontrollably. “You just look like a constipated turtle right now. I thought I should let you know.”  


Dear god, Andrew wants to kill this man. He just hopes he's able to restrain himself this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What up, peeps! Another chapter for ya. Tensions are heating up. Aaron and Alex are figuring each other out. People are learning what they do and do not like. Namely... Debate Club. 
> 
> Anyhoo, this chapter was fun to write, especially because it differed so drastically from the original version in both content and characters' reactions to one another. Friendship might not be quite so easy to achieve, this time around. Whichever time that means is up to you. ;)
> 
> Have a good week, friends! Stay safe, hopeful, and kind, and try not to murder your "acquaintances."


	7. Soon You'll See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex wants to do his best. Always.

Alex tries not to pace around the dorm room too much. If Jason sees the track marks in their tacky orange rug, he’ll probably ask how Alex is doing, if he’s all right. And then Alex will have to respond, and that will just be an awkward experience for everyone involved.  


Truth is, _Alex _isn’t even sure how he’s doing.  
__

____

He feels like he is maybe going to cry, but then again, maybe he wants to whoop and cheer. He’s made it through his first week of college. Really. He did that. He’s done it.  


____

But now comes the hard part. The weeks, months, years of endless exams and pumped-out papers. The agonizing mornings when coffee isn’t enough, the professors who’ll drone his ears off, the anxiety heating up until he boils over. And underneath it all, the pulsing worry that he isn’t at all ready for this.  


____

Truth is, Alex spent so long preparing for this, and now that he’s here, he has no idea how to face it. All of it. Studying with acquaintances, signing up for clubs, debating like the lawyer he wants to become. Going to classes and having a roommate. These are all alien concepts that, up until a month ago, were leagues away. He used to be leagues away, across a relentless ocean from this place. Now, he’s here. Now, he’s in college. Now, he’s trying to adjust, and it is going... Well, it's going.  


____

He can’t tell if it’s going well, but the tears building behind his eyes suggest that maybe this is something that takes some time. Maybe he will be okay, if he just lets the first few weeks be settle-in time.  


____

But he can’t. He can’t let himself fall behind, can’t let himself slow down. He has homework now, essays and online tests that he hadn’t been able to complete in advance. He may have all but memorized his textbooks, but now, he needs to take what he’s learned and actually make something of it. At least all his classes this week went well, he supposes, but even that supposition is tinged with doubt. What if he messed something up and no one told him? What if they all secretly hate him? _What if he isn’t enough? _  
__

____

__Everything is all so new and exciting and terrifying, and now that he’s had time to think, that last bit is the one that has been pushed to the forefront of his mind. He’s terrified, and he shouldn’t be terrified, he should be strong and focused and keep going, no matter what he feels, don’t let his emotions stand in his way, keep going, write, be better, grow, keep going-  
_ _

____

__“Alex?” There’s a knock at his door.  
_ _

____

__Shit. Shit, shit, shit.  
_ _

____

__“Come in, sorry.”  
_ _

____

__A face and then a person pokes their way around the door, but Alex doesn’t bother looking. He’s gotten relatively used to his roommate's polite manners by now, even if they make no sense when compared to the rest of his personality. Maybe they’re a holdover from some childhood training, or maybe it’s just a Jason quirk. Either way, Alex doesn’t mind. It’s kinda nice, actually, living with someone who warns him when they’re about to enter. It’s especially nice when Alex is having a breakdown, like right now.  
_ _

____

__“You okay?” Jason asks, and Alex winces. He’s stopped pacing, at least, so there’s nothing except his puffy eyes, hunched shoulders, and frown to give him away. If he just keeps his back turned…  
_ _

____

__Jason comes into his sightline, and Alex curses internally some more.  
_ _

____

__“Wow. You look like shit, dude.”  
_ _

____

__So that’s where his manners end, apparently. “Thanks,” Alex croaks, going for wry and ending up sounding pitiful instead.  
_ _

____

__“Hey, hey.” Jason takes his shoulders, and Alex allows himself to be led to sit on his bed, even if he is a little confused about it. Jason sits next to him. “What’s going on?”  
_ _

____

__“Nothing.” Jason makes a face, and Alex amends himself, “It’s fine. It’s not important.”  
_ _

____

__“Look, I know we’ve only known each other, like, a week, but you don't look fine, Alex.”  
_ _

____

__“How would you know?” Alex snaps, and instantly regrets it. Yet, Jason just cocks his head.  
_ _

____

__“Is the first week of college getting to you?”  
_ _

____

__“What? Why would you-”  
_ _

____

__Something about how Alex said it must have tipped Jason off, though, because he’s nodding as if in agreement. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m a sophomore, if you can believe it, and it was the exact same for me.”  
_ _

____

__That gives Alex pause. “Really?”  
_ _

____

__“Yeah, really. I freaked out. Like, you should have seen me, I had the whole deal going on – crying, snot coming out of my eyeballs, contemplating my life over a bag of Cheetos. Horrible stuff.”  
_ _

____

__Now that, that startles a laugh out of Alex, and he takes a moment to shoot Jason a look of pure gratitude. Jason gives him a smile in return and continues with renewed enthusiasm, “Oh yeah, and my roommate at the time - you’ll have to meet him some day - he gave me the best advice I’ve ever gotten while having a breakdown. You know what he said?”  
_ _

____

__“What?” Alex asks, trying to keep the tears from making his voice sound too choked-up. He fails, but it doesn’t matter quite as much anymore.  
_ _

____

__“He said, ‘Jason, buddy, if you never fail in life, then how will you ever succeed?’ Which, honestly, makes no sense because I’m sure there’s, like, one person in the whole world who has succeeded at something without failing. Like, what if eating my breakfast was a task? Then, I would have succeeded without failure, because god knows how I can fuck up eating breakfast. Although, maybe I could. You know what-”  
_ _

____

__Jason’s rambling doesn’t seem to be stopping any time soon, but neither do the tears streaming down Alex’s cheeks, so for now… For now, it’s okay. It’s all going to be maybe sort of okay._ _

____

__Yeah. Okay._ _

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listened to my crazy ass playlist while writing this, so that's always fun. I hope you all enjoy the self-reflection and the accidental hurt/comfort I've created (originally, it was just going to be pain. You're welcome.)
> 
> I know I've certainly had moments like this at community college, so I thought I would let Alex have them as well. In the first week, too. Whew boy, this is going to be a good semester for him. And a good semester for us all, amiright?


	8. Boom!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People aren't easy. They're even harder to deal with if you happen to be a person yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, peeps~ The good times continue to roll, and I hope they continue to roll for you too!

Coffee Be Black is crowded today. It doesn’t really come as a surprise to Andrew. The second week of college is a battleground of anxiety and nerves – all the illusions of what was to come are melting away into the present of it all becoming real, tangible, and painfully difficult.  


At least, that’s what it was like the first time. His parents’ dreams for him had crystallized into a constant struggle in his mind, his visions of the future always fighting with his darkest fears for control. Both balanced on the edge of a knife, on the edge of an abyss that tumbles into failure.  


Now, it’s a different story, but not that different. He’s still grappling with his fears. He’s still balancing, dangerously close to falling apart. He’s still afraid of what is to come.  


Second verse, same as the first.  


“Yo, Andy? Earth to spaceman?”  


Andrew’s depth of field blurs out the bustling tables surrounding them and focuses back into the conversation he was supposed to be having with his sometimes very annoying tablemate.  


__“What?” he tries not to snap.  
_ _

__“I lost you for a second there.” Alex’s grin is lopsided.  
_ _

__“Yes, you did. What were you saying?”  
_ _

__“I was talking about how crazy college has been so far, remember? I mean, we’re already part of a club-”  
_ _

“ _You're _already part of a club,” Andrew corrects automatically.  
__

_____Alex continues with nothing but a blink of the eye in between the words and his reply, not seeming to clock Andrew’s irritation at all. “- and I have a roommate. He’s really cool. It’s just, it’s all pretty darn exciting. I think this is going to be an interesting year, is all.”  
_ _ _ _ _

___“It is certainly going to be one-of-a-kind.” It’s a wry comment, but Alex’s grin only grows.  
_ _ _

___“Yeah! That’s the spirit, Andy.”  
_ _ _

Suppressing his frown is getting easier, now that he is getting hands-on experience. “Mhm. So, why _did _you ask to meet here?”  
__

_____“Look, Andy.” The smile is gone now, and that worries Andrew more than anything. All of a sudden, Alex has sobered up. “I know you think I’m probably annoying or something, because I’m always talking, but I’m telling you, it’s my best trait. You better get used to it, since we're allies together against this whole college thing, and that’s not going to change anytime soon.”  
_ _ _ _ _

___“And why’s that?” Andrew asks, trying to keep the tetchy note out of his voice.  
_ _ _

___“Because we’re just, we flow together, man. I know you don’t want it to be true, but it is. So, suck it up and chill out.”  
_ _ _

___“Says the man so highstrung, he’s going to destroy all the upholstery here.”  
_ _ _

___Alex abruptly stops his fidgeting with the armchair’s leather and ducks his head. When he raises it again, there's fire in his eyes. Never a good sign. “Yeah, well, you should have seen your face after Debate Club. You liked it, I could tell.”  
_ _ _

___“Did I now?” Andrew raises a skeptical eyebrow.  
_ _ _

___“You did. I have a real intuition when it comes to people. And I know you liked that whole thing, even if you won’t let yourself admit it 'cause you don’t want anything good to happen in your life.”  
_ _ _

___Andrew doesn’t really know how to respond to that. It’s not exactly a hidden thing about him that he has trouble enjoying the present moment, but he’d thought Alex too oblivious to pick up on that. Maybe he has a little skill with people, after all. Maybe Andrew had misjudged him.  
_ _ _

___“You know what you are? You’re a sour-puss.”  
_ _ _

___The comment catches him off-guard, mostly because after all of Alex’s digs at the real, difficult, feared truth, this one is fairly shoddy. So much for being able to read people.  
___

_____ _

But one look at Alex’s expression – mocking, taunting, _joking _– and the truth dawns on Andrew. He’s not looking to antagonize – well, he is, but that isn’t his end goal.  
__

_____ _

___It’s just like it was with Alexander. All the little snippy remarks, all the posturing, all the words thrown across the chasm of mistrust that had kept them at arms’ length… They had all expressed some, admittedly small, amount of real concern for Aaron's wellbeing. Whether that concern had been adequately given or received is besides the point now. It had existed, at some point in history, at some point in time. That’s the part that matters.  
_ _ _

____

___The fact that Alex, this Alex, is trying to help in his own small way, trying to cheer Andrew up just a bit is the point. Even if he has a terrible way of doing it. Even if he has been and probably will continue to be annoying, for a substantial amount of their time together. Even if he is saying most of these things just so he can convince Andrew to be his friend.  
_ _ _

____

___Really, in the end, can Andrew fault him for that? Can he fault Alex for seeking out a helping hand that will give him a little more balance on this narrow cliff edge they’re trying to navigate? Can he fault Alex for reaching out, even in his own painfully irritating way, when that's all Andrew has ever really desired as well?  
_ _ _

____

___He tries for a lopsided grin of his own, in return. “Well, if I’m a sour-puss, I think it’d be only fair to describe you as a chatty cat.”  
_ _ _

____

___Alex’s forehead wrinkles. “What?”  
_ _ _

____

“No, because- because sour- _puss _, chatty cat.”  
__

______ _ _

__

___“I got that. I was just – what? How is that even a remotely good comeback?”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Mm, and sour-puss was a true zinger.”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Yeah, it was.”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“ _Right _.”  
___ _ _

__

____

__

___“Fuck off.”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Language.” Another shared grin. “I’m going to get another coffee; I think I’m going to need it to get through this exchange. You?”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Well, what about…?”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Are you really that scared of Morgan?”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Don’t tell her. Please.”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Oh, I’ve got it! You’re a scaredy cat.”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Nice one.”  
_ _ _

__

____

__

___“Thank you.”_ _ _

__

____

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fairly fluffy chapter! Sometimes, it's okay to not be a sour-puss and open up a little. Or, better yet, open up *and* be a sour-puss at the same time.
> 
> Also, yes, Andrew has definitely listened to Herman's Hermits' hit, "I'm Henry VII, I Am". Did you really expect anything different?
> 
> ...And yes, he is just the man to manage to put a semicolon in his dialogue. Don't question him.


	9. What Do We Have in Common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Navigating relationships can be difficult, sometimes.

“Alex, what is going on with you?” Andrew asks as he watches his friend decimate the stone tiles of the campus’ quad. 

“I just… I want to ask Jason to come with me to the Fall Festival, because I feel like it’d be a good… teambuilding activity? I guess? I just don’t feel like we’ve spent a lot of time together – he’s been out a lot these past few weeks, and I’ve been doing work.” 

“Alex.” 

“So, this could be a cool way to get to know each other. But what if he doesn’t want to go? He’s my roommate, after all. What if that’s weird? Is that weird?” 

“Alex.” 

“You’re right, you’re right, it totally is. I don’t know, who are you going to go with? Oh, shit.” Alex’s eyes grow comically wide, and Andrew has to physically restrain himself from doing a comically large eyeroll. 

“Did you want to go with me? Maybe you could come with me _and _Jason? Would that feel weird, as if you were a third wheel? But not really, since I’m not _with _Jason or anything. And I don’t even know if he wants to go yet, so-”____

___“Alexander.”_ _ _

_____ _

Alex pauses. “Yeah?” 

____

____

____

“Take a breath,” Andrew replies, using his hands to emphasize his point. Alex fiddles with his fingers, then with his pant legs, before finally forcing his hands to his sides. 

____

____

____

“Okay, okay, yeah, right. Gotta just.” He takes a couple exaggerated breaths. Just as quickly as he’s begun, he stops in favor of turning sharply back toward Andrew. “I don’t know, what do you think I should do?” 

____

____

“I think you should just ask him and see if he wants to go. I’ll be your backup in case he doesn’t, but-” 

____

____

____

“Thanks! Ah jeez, but I don’t want you to feel second to him. You’re a good-” Alex cuts himself off abruptly, looking conflicted. “- person,” he finishes lamely. 

____

____

____

Andrew doesn’t know quite what to make of that (although he has a guess), so he pretends to have never noticed. “Alex, it’s okay. Parties really aren’t my thing.” 

____

____

____

“Okay, if you say so. But I can see it now, you dominating the dance floor. Everyone else watching on in awe.” Alex plops back down on the park bench with a grin, his eyes a thousand miles away. 

____

____

____

“You know that isn’t true.” 

____

____

____

“Ah, I don’t know. Maybe just a little tiny piece of you, deep down inside, knows how to get funky.” Alex starts doing the cheesiest dance moves Andrew has ever had the misfortune of witnessing. He can’t take his eyes away. It’s horrible. 

____

____

____

“Ah? Ah? Feeling anything? Any great longing for the honorable art of disco arising within you?” Alex teases, a maniacal twinkle building behind his eyes. 

____

____

____

“Definitely not. Only a determination to get away from this conversation and to my next class.” Andrew stands from the bench and is about to walk off without another word (it was a good mic drop moment, in his personal opinion), but he thinks better of it at the last second and turns back to Alex. 

____

____

____

“Text him.” 

____

____

____

Alex looks up at him with an unusually complicated expression. It’s like he can’t decide what to feel, so he’s decided to feel all of it at once. “What?” 

____

____

____

“Or go see him in person. If you can.” 

____

____

____

“Really? Is that a good idea?” 

____

____

____

Andrew shrugs, which may be the first time he’s done that before, that feels odd. “I don’t know. But you should do it. Don’t waste a perfectly good opportunity for, ah, how did you say it before? Building allyship?” 

____

____

____

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, exactly.” Alex’s eyes are burning with that light that is so _him _, it almost hurts to look at. It softens as his eyes refocus on Andrew’s face. “Thanks, Andy.”__

____

____

____

“Yes, yes. Anything to get you to stop whining about it, really.” 

____

____

____

“Still. Thanks.” Again, that complicated expression. So many emotions mixing and melding on the surface, and even more underneath. 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

“Least I could do. See you after Philosophy?” 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

“You bet. Want to meet in the quad again?” 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

“I hear it’s going to rain. Coffee Be Black?” 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

“See you then, bro-ham.” 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

“I’m sorry, what?” 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

“It’s just teen slang, Andy, don’t worry about it. You and your old man brain wouldn’t understand.” 

____

____

____

____

____

____

____

Andrew bites back whatever foolish thing was going to come out of his mouth in response to that, settling for a simple nod and a swift turn on his heel. To Philosophy class, then. Right. Good. Plenty of time to mull on that comment later. 

____

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__  
~~~***~~~__

 _ ___

_Annoying Kid (Alex) _  
We NEED to talk. Aaaaaaaa__

____

There are days when Andrew really hates his two-hour Intro to Philosophy lecture. This happens to be one of those days. Who sends cryptic text messages and then leaves a person to contemplate every possible conversation outcome for an hour, all while trying to keep up with this week’s spiel on Plato?

 _ ___

The second the teacher concludes his droning monologue, Andrew is out the door and on his way to Coffee Be Black. As he walks hastily onward, he glances up. Looks like he was right; dark grey clouds are beginning to move in on the city, looming above the endless glass-and-metal monstrosities these people call ‘skyscrapers’ and forecasting a dismal walk back to his apartment in his future. He supposes it is his fault for proposing a meeting spot that is an agonizing five minute-walk away from his home.

 _ ___

It’s actually funny. This whole thing reminds him of the first time he met Alex. What a strange day that had been, with all of its memories, rain, exhaustion, and… Alex-ness. He still has a dent in his floor from that pot, now that he thinks about it.

 _ ___

“Andy!”

 _ ___

Andrew’s attention is pulled unceremoniously back to the present by a waving, grinning fool on the steps to Coffee Be Black. Andrew waits until he’s within speaking range before he voices his most urgent complaint. “Alex. What was so exciting that you had to make me ignore the latter half of my lecture on Plato’s Forms?”

 _ ___

“I think anything is more important than Plato’s perfect little shapes, but this is really good, trust me.”

 _ ___

They make their way inside, Andrew giving a quick nod to the man behind the counter. He’s seen him around before, and he knows about him vaguely from talking to Morgan. He thinks the guy’s name is James or something.

 _ ___

They sit in their usual spot, tucked away in a corner of the café. It’s odd having a “usual spot” that he shares with another person. It’s odd having someone who will text him with news, and even odder that he finds he genuinely cares about what Alex is going to say.

 _ ___

His relationship with Alex is just odd, he decides.

 _ ___

“So, I talked to Jason, like you said.”

 _ ___

“Uh-huh.”

 _ ___

“And you wanna know what he said to me?”

 _ ___

“I’m assuming he said yes?” Andrew says, raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow.

 _ ___

“Not quite.”

 _ ___

Andrew’s face falls in disappointment, then morphs into confusion as he watches Alex’s grin creep farther across his face, then shifts to annoyance as he understands. “Alex.”

 _ ___

“Not until you ask.”

 _ ___

How did Alex even get accepted to King's College with this kind of attitude? Not for the first time, Andrew wonders where on Earth this kid came from, and he doesn’t mean geographically. “Fine. What did Jason say to you, Alexander?”

 _ ___

Alex’s grin doubles, somehow. “He said ‘definitely’!” This statement is followed by a yelp as Alex clutches his very recently smacked shoulder.

 _ ___

“What about you? Have you asked anyone yet?” Alex asks while he nurses his wound.

 _ ___

“No, and I’m not planning to,” Andrew sighs, wary of having this conversation again. He doesn’t want to witness any more of those… _dance moves _, ever again.__

 _ _ _ _____

Alex frowns, and a strange tingle races up Andrew’s spine at the expression. “Why not? What are you waitin’ for?”

 _ _ _ _____

An innocent enough question. It’s stupid, really. Yet, just like that, the greying afternoon is shattered into a thousand pieces of memory. Words, images, people flash in front of Burr- Andrew’s eyes, and he is helpless against the deluge.

 _ _ _ _____

 _ _ _ _____

_A dark blue night, lit only by candles and smiles and filled only with drunken dancing._

 _What are you waitin’ for?_

 _A grimace, hidden quickly by a smile. Strained but with a touch of real emotion. ___

 _ ___

 _I’ll see you on the other side of the war. ___

 _ _ _ _____

 _ _ _ _____

______

"I mean, it’s not like the universe is just gonna hand you someon- are you okay? Andy? Andy! Holy shit-”

He knows that voice. He can still hear it sometimes, ringing deep in the darkest corners of his minds, in that little space that screams and cries through his sleepless nights. And those eyes, so familiar and dark and ambitious and terrified and terrifying, and that smile, those words that always pour out of him like an unstoppable river, and that voice that had wounded and flaunted and reached out… But this isn’t- he can’t be- it can’t- 

_I’ll see you on the other side of the war._

It is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super apologies for how late this is! The power went out for a couple hours in my area, but hey, at least this chapter is coming to you all, at all. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the exciting revelations in this chapter, and I hope you're looking forward to reading the next chapter as I am to publishing it. ;)
> 
> Peace and love, my friends!


	10. Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hourglass turns over and over, spinning invisible and infinite. No one knows which half you'll end up on, only that eventually you'll end.

The dew glistens on the grass as the two men stand opposite each other. A field stretches between them, a seemingly infinite space separating the rivals. There is a moment where he can feel it, in the air - the universe holding its breath. For once, Burr doesn’t wait for it to give him a path forward. 

The soil of that field has become riddled with uncertainty and stained with mistakes over the years. Some say the blood spilled there has soaked through the layers of dirt to reside permanently in the rock below. Others whisper that a passageway to Hell itself is buried under the dew and grass and soil and stone. If that is true, Burr wonders why he wasn’t given an express pass to that afterlife the moment he made his choice. 

No, instead, he lived years. Years, and years, and years. Regret piling up like mold, always there, always growing, always just out of sight but always in mind. As the years passed, he lost little bits of himself. Like being caught in the orbit of a black hole, he slowly slipped away into the abyss. He had stared into the darkness, and now it stared back, eager to devour a man who had once stood so tall. 

Maybe he really had read too much Voltaire, after all. 

He almost wishes he could have seen it when his only light, his Theodosia, disappeared into the whipping winds and the watery grave of the ocean. At least then he would have known for certain. At least then he would be prepared for the fact that she wouldn’t ever come home again. Instead, he had waited and waited and waited, a moment of anticipation that never quite ended. Even after she was presumed lost at sea, there were rumors and whispers and talk about town. He denied them all, but doubt lingered like an old friend in every word, every action, every little motion he made. 

That doubt plagued him for the rest of his life. His failed marriage (settled by Alexander Hamilton Jr., of all the hilarious things in this big wide world), his failed ventures, his failed legacy. His agonizing, slow death that had lasted years, years full of weakness and anger, void of love. 

Then, he had died. A failure, a disgrace, a murderer. Buried near his father, as a mocking reminder of how far he had fallen. 

It had been truly something when he had opened his eyes on a hot afternoon in July and realized he was alive again. Realized he could remake himself; he could be better this time. He has a second chance to live, and he wasn’t – isn’t going to throw that away. 

But ever since, he’s wobbled back and forth. Towing the line between whether that day was a fresh start or simply a continuation of his suffering. It seems he’s finally made his decision. Because this… This is too much. This is a step too far, a practical joke stretched to its limit. As he stares into those eyes, those eyes that had mocked, accused, derided him (that had shone with such incredible ferocity and light), he can feel that old mold creeping back up his spine, coating his head, worming its way into his mind. Every emotion he’s tried to get a handle on is now swirling around him, acrid with the stench of that rotten field. 

The eyes in front of him used to be a warm chocolate brown, but now, all he can see is the deep black brown, tainted with darkness, that had been Alexander’s eyes in the end. Back then, they had been hidden behind glasses, but now they gaze at him without those pieces of glass and metal to restrain their piercing nature. With pupils like puddles of void, they suck the final pieces of Burr away. 

He had thought he had nothing left to lose. Even when he had wondered about this new man, so familiar yet so far from what he’d once been, he had never really considered his suspicions credible. He had thought it was another joke on him, with love from the universe. He had assumed it was a coincidence or fate or maybe another second chance, to get it right where he had gotten it wrong before. But in his heart of hearts, he had never believed this Alex could really, truly be him. That would have been a step too far. 

Here he is now, stepping over the line in the imaginary sand and falling into the abyss. 

He can tell Alex is muttering something to him, words lost on deaf ears but seen by knowing eyes. He knows Alex is probably freaking out right now. He’s scaring a young man who has no part in this internal war. He doesn’t know how to stop. 

That’s the thing, isn’t it? That tricky little niggle of doubt. Because Burr had been ready to walk right out of this shop, off that campus, and away from this life the second it had clicked. The second this puzzle had become clear for the image it is. But he can’t do that, can he? 

He’s too scared. He’s too attached. He, an impossible man, has met another impossible man who had shown him what it feels like to matter again. What it feels like to be part of witty exchanges and what it feels like to be asked questions about himself. What it feels like to not just mock-smile at the present while staying stuck in the past. 

What it feels like to be part of a world that he had thought too small for him now. 

So, here he is. Staring down the length of another gun, staring at those damned eyes. So vivid and real, he could almost picture himself there, on that field. Or there, at that wedding. That brilliantly lit night, where the atmosphere had practically thrummed with the joy of it all. Such a wondrous ability to be able to celebrate life in the midst of a war, in the midst of a nation rising up and an empire tumbling down. In his past life, when he had looked back on that night later, it had been with frustration. He had thought of Hamilton’s words as scornful and full of reproach. Mocking his way of life. Mocking Burr himself. 

Now… Now, sees it for what it truly was. Honest advice. A dash of compassion. An olive branch. He’s wondered some nights what would have happened if the kinship they had shared for those few minutes had lasted the rest of their lives. If politics and rivalries hadn’t divided them. 

But it’s useless, pointless, helpless. The past is over and done with. Now, he has to make himself a new future. 

He doesn’t know if he can. He doesn’t know if he can stare into the eyes of the man he killed, this impossible man, every day. He doesn’t know if he can bear the glances over stacks of college textbooks, the wry quirks of their mouths the only real indicator of the brutal stress they’re both under, all while he desperately tries not to think back to the law books they had looked over together in preparation for the Levi case. Doesn’t know if he could stare across that chasm between them that hasn’t gone away, only changed since they last saw each other. 

Does he know? Does he remember? He has to. He’s Alex, Alexander… Hamilton. He always knows everything. He has to. 

Yet, the way he looks at Burr, it’s like all he can see is sweet little Andrew Ron. Stern and awkward pre-law student, human being, innocent… Friend. 

It’s too much, and not enough, and Burr, Andrew, _Burr _doesn’t think he’s strong enough to do it. Any of it. He can’t walk away, he can’t stay, he can’t do anything but stare into those eyes that see his soul and judge it and don’t deem him a “dangerous disgrace” this time around. They see him as something more, something better. Better than he even is.__

__This is it. He knows his options. Now it’s time to decide. This is his moment, his choice. The universe holds its breath once again, and it feels as if the rotations of the Earth have paused just to see what comes next. See what he decides._ _

____

He can’t wait for guidance this time, can’t wait for the flow of the world to bring him where he needs to go. It was always rubbish at that, anyway. It has to be now, before all the grains of sand are gone, and he slips away into the eddies of time. Before he is finally laid to rest and punished for all his mistakes. Before he is sent to Hell for good. (As if this isn’t already Hell.) 

____

This is it, time is going, going, gone. Make a decision. Choose, choose, goddamnit, just choose! 

____

It feels like a dream. Andrew wraps himself around Alex as he heaves out sob after sob. His apologies fall faster than his tears, but Alex doesn’t seem to care. He’s too busy murmuring things of his own, words that are finally heard and received. Acknowledgements and comforts and worries and questions. Andrew doesn’t bother to answer any of them, only allows all of those years upon years of anguish, torment, regret to be let out onto the shoulder of an impossible man that has somehow followed him through the hourglass’ spinning sands. His past, present, and, hopefully, future. 

____

Andrew’s breath shakes as he tries to fill his exhaling lungs. He knows this isn’t even close to enough, that he is only shoveling tiny pails of water out of an ocean of pain within himself. But it doesn’t matter. Because he is taking a step across that line, and he can feel his foot land in golden-warm sand. He basks in it, in that release. In the leap of faith. In his choice. 

____

He knows what he wants. Well, he doesn’t know what he wants, exactly, but he does know what he needs. He needs Alex, this Alex with all of his mysteries and questions. With this history they share that he may or may not remember. 

____

They are two sides to the same coin, an eternal game of heads or tails. Burr and Andrew need to do it right this time, need to play this game with their opposite by their side. They need to protect Alex, keep him safe from this wide world of horrors, because… Well, Andrew hasn’t worked that bit out yet, but he’s getting there. 

____

He supposes because Burr was a lonely, lonely man, and Andrew is a lonely, lonely boy, and Alex… is a lighthouse, in the ocean. Calling. Beckoning. Accepting. 

____

He’s going to do whatever he can to ensure Alex can shine his light out into the world. 

____

“Hey, hey, Andy, you’re okay. It’s okay. Whatever’s wrong, it’s gonna be okay, all right? Trust me. We’ll figure it out.” 

____

Andrew smiles, despite himself, despite the trembling in his breath and the shuddering in his heart. Still the same old Alexander – rambling to the moon and back. It’s comforting, and terrifying, and somehow exactly what he needed. 

____

“You’re right,” he manages, his breaths evening out as he forces calm into his quivering lungs. “It’s going to be okay.” 

____

For once, he might actually mean it.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I couldn't wait to put this baby out here because it is one of the chapters I was proudest of from my last version. Anyhoo, I love you all. Take care of yourselves.


	11. Never Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is never what you think it will be, nor often what you think it is.

Understatements aren’t really Alex’s thing. Yet, he can safely say that if someone referred to him as “confused” following yesterday’s events, it would be a massive understatement. 

Andy had been acting fine. Normal. His regular, old, emotionally withdrawn self. There hadn’t been any signs or warnings, only a five-second delay between that horrible, panic-filled expression and complete collapse. Alex doesn’t think he’s ever seen Andy cry before, and then… Boom. He’s clutching onto the other man while he shakes apart. 

It’s not that Alex didn’t think he had emotions. Everyone has emotions. Alex has emotions, all the time, but he talks over them until even he can’t remember what they were. While Andy… Andy keeps his heart clutched tightly beneath his dark jackets and crisp white shirts, and he has never let Alex see it before. Probably never let many other people see it before, either. 

Alex can’t help feeling a little intrigued at that. He knows he should never feel happy about his fri- acquaintance’s suffering, and he doesn’t, but he does feel… honored, in a way. It’s hard to explain, but he thinks he’s glad that Andy trusted him enough to allow him to see it. Maybe it wasn’t a fully conscious choice, maybe whatever Andy was upset about just sort of bubbled over in the moment, but Alex is glad he was there. He’s glad that Andy had someone to comfort him. Alex knows what it is to spiral alone, and as of recently, he knows what it is to have that cut short by another person. So, to be that for someone else, for Andy to allow him that, that’s special. That means something, if only Alex could figure out what. 

There is one frustrating piece of this whole puzzle that is getting under his skin, however; Alex wishes Andy would just tell him what made him flip to begin with. People need time for these things, or so Alex has heard, but it’s really driving him crazy. He can’t help, can’t reassure, can’t avoid stepping on eggshells if he doesn’t know what it is he needs to not step on. 

If it’s something to do with the Fall Festival, he doesn’t need to go with Jason. He doesn’t even need to go at all. Sure, he’d thought it’d be a fun thing to do, but really, he has so much classwork to get done anyway, he shouldn’t be distracting himself with teenage partying. Andy also seems to think it’s a waste of time, though, so it’s probably not the Fall Festival bothering him. Maybe the overall stress of school? Only, he kept apologizing, and crying, and apologizing more, and that had Alex concerned most of all. If it was something Alex had done, he could fix that. He could make it better. If it’s something Andy thinks he’s done to Alex… That gets more complicated. What does he think he did? Is it something Alex doesn’t know about yet? Is he secretly working undercover with a spy organization to investigate Alex, or maybe he’s a crime lord who was staking out the campus but got too caught up in it all, or…? 

He’s being ridiculous. But the thing is, he can’t know for sure that any of those things aren’t true. Unlikely, yes. But undeniably false? He has no idea, because he has no idea who Andy really is. He never has. That had been all fine and dandy at first – no need for pages and pages of personal history when they are only allies in it to get through college, but now, it’s a massive stumbling block. A towering question mark concerning every part of Andy’s life. 

_What is wrong?_

____

Yesterday, when Andy had finally calmed down and left to “go get some sleep,” Alex had thought they’d be revisiting it. That Andy would explain it all, when he felt better. The next day, it was just business as usual. Andy’s exposed heart had been tucked back up his sleeve, and now he was just regular, old, emotionally stymied Andy again. Alex doesn’t know what to do with that. He doesn’t know what words will work, doesn’t know what questions to ask, doesn’t know if he has the strength to shatter the peace, even if he does know it is a façade. 

____

So, they carry on, business as usual. Days slip by into a week, and nothing changes, and yet everything does. Where Andy had typically spent an hour or two a day talking and studying with Alex, now they’re practically inseparable. Alex isn’t even sure which of them is making the change, only that most hours between classes are now filled with coffee chats and rustling pages. Discussions on ethics while Morgan eyes them from the counter, paragraphs of texts while they’re in class about various professors’ teaching methods, words thrown across the room in Debate Club (which Andy actually agreed to come back to this week, miracle of all miracles). 

____

Everything is different – not in bad way – just… in a different one, and Alex wants to know why. And also wants Andy to come with him to the Fall Festival, but that’s unrelated although equally important. 

____

__

__~~~***~~__

 _ ___

 _ ___

__“You should come. Pleeeeease.” Alex encourages, half of his body leaning across the table. He is trying very hard to make eye contact with Andy over the rim of his textbook, but Andy is doing a commendable job ignoring him.__

 _ ___

“Come oooon,” Alex whines.

 _ ___

Silence. Then, a page flip.

 _ ___

Asshole.

 _ ___

“You’re going to make me feel bad for going. I should be doing my homework, you know, but if I can do this, if I can take a break, then you can, too. I know it’s possible.”

 _ ___

Nothing. Two more page flips. Alex lets out a frustrated huff and sinks back into his chair, positioning himself so he can lie across it with his legs hanging off the left arm. Might as well make himself comfy. This is going to take awhile.

 _ ___

“Please. Pretty please. Super pretty please. Lots of cherries on top. I can find the ones you like, the maraschino kind. I heard they sell them at-”

 _ ___

“For the love of God, will you shut up, Alexander?” Andy demands, eyes burning when he finally looks up.

 _ ___

Alex grins, only encouraged by Andy’s behavior. “I’m just sayin’, it would be fun.”

 _ ___

Andy stares at him for a long second before putting his book down with a weary sigh. (Haha, surrender at last!) “I’m afraid you’ll have to repeat what new ‘fun’ adventure you’ve devised for us. I wasn’t listening.”

 _ ___

“I was saying, you should come to the Fall Festival tomorrow. It’s not going to be any fun if you don’t,” Alex replied, throwing an unfortunately awkward wink at his friend. He’s been working on them but getting only one eyelid to close is proving difficult.

 _ ___

“No.”

 _ ___

“Please.”

 _ ___

“No.”

 _ ___

“Please, please, please.”

 _ ___

Andy glares. “Why do you care this much?”

 _ ___

Because I’m worried about you. Because I hope this will help, that maybe having other people around you will fill whatever void in you that needs filling. Because I want to reach out to you, but I don’t know how, so I’m hoping someone else can do it better.

 _ ___

“Hey, man, I’m just returning the favor. Do a little good ol’ fashioned prompting to get you to do what you really wanna to do. Remember me with Jason?”

 _ ___

“How could I forget?”

 _ ___

“That was all you. Well, partially you. The actual asking bit was me, but you got me out there. So… voila!” Alex tries to wink again. Amazingly, it works better this time. It even gets a tiny half smile – or Andy’s equivalent of a half-smile, which would be more like a quarter smile or a two-fifths smile on anyone else – so Alex considers it a success. It’s turning out to be a longer smile, even. Most of the time, Andy’s smiles are short, brief, like rays of sunshine on a cloudy day. A rare surprise. This one is just stretching on and on… Actually, Andy looks a little bit like he’s phased out.

 _ ___

As if tuned into Alex’s thoughts, Andy takes a sudden breath and blinks a few times, looking like he’s just come back to himself. Is it just Alex’s imagination, or is there a little more wetness in his eyes? Has Alex done something wrong? Said something wrong? Shit, shit, shit-

 _ ___

“Fine. I’ll give it a chance. But only because you so kindly suggested it.” Andy shoots him a Look, and Alex breathes an internal sigh of relief. Back to regular, old, emotionally repressed Andy. The only kind of Andy that Alex knows how to handle, at this point.

 _ ___

 _ ___

__~~~***~~~__

 _ ___

 _ ___

__

The Fall Festival is being hosted at their campus center, and Alex feels like those four blocks have never been longer. He keeps fidgeting with the cuff of his suit jacket and fluffing his hair around. He tries to pretend like his nails haven’t already been worn ragged by his anxiety. He just needs to relax. Jason is going to meet him there, and hopefully Alex will be able to track Andy down later and see if he came, after all. Not that he doesn’t trust his acquaintance, but, well, that’s actually a matter that requires its own thought and time and other things Alex doesn’t have enough of right now. He’s too busy making sure his touch-ups of makeup are picture-perfect.

 __

Everything is taken care of, nothing to worry about. He had even been able to scrape up enough of his savings to get a nice jacket and dress shirt, ones that might be able to go toe-to-toe with Andy’s seemingly limitless collection of formal clothes.

 __

Even despite his mental reassurances, Alex feels like he is vibrating so much, his bones are going to slough apart. At least he doesn’t throw up the second the old brick building, his destination, comes into sight. As he steps up in front of its main entryway, framed by stone slabs in an arch, he can feel the grime worn into the creases of his palms from his restless movements. He is nothing compared to this place. He takes the steps up to the front door two at a time but hesitates in front of the modern yet imposing door. It’s painted black, surrounded by a sea of brick on every side. An imposter in the midst of the ancients. He can understand that feeling, at least. Swallowing his growing fear, he yanks the door open and steps into a crowd of his peers drinking beverages out of paper cups and standing around, chatting.

 __

It looks a little more… mellow than he’d been expecting. From the movies he’d seen, he’d been expecting more of the Red Solo cup extravaganza with flashy lights, beer pong, and EDM music blaring. Sure, there are a few people dancing in groups to light pop music, but the rest of them are just meandering around and chomping on pizza. Some are even sitting in the corner, playing video games. This is definitely not what he’d been expecting.

 __

“What a party, am I right?”

 __

Alex spins around to see his roommate grinning lazily at him. “Yeah, it’s very… I mean, it’s a bit- it’s kind of chiller than I was expecting,” he stammers out, at a loss for words as he looks around the low-energy crowd.

 __

“Yeah. Even my highschool threw bigger parties than this,” Jason says, his face scrunching up as he follows Alex’s gaze. Something seems to dawn on him, and he turns to Alex, lazy smile back and brighter than ever. “You know, I’ve got a friend who could get us a more… entertaining experience. If you’re cool with a change of pace.”

 __

Alex gazes at him, trying to figure out what he is actually offering. He really hopes it isn’t drugs.

 __

“Like an actual party?” Jason prompts after a beat of silence.

 __

Oh. _Oh. _Huh. Well… it can’t hurt, can it? It’s the weekend. Even better it’s Saturday. He can always get all his remaining work done tomorrow, if he really needs to. Work hard, play hard, right? He deserves a break, right? Even if college parties are one of those places where kids do drugs and toilet paper houses and try handstands while drinking beer. Or so Alex has heard.__

 __

 _ _God, the Alex from not so long ago is probably rolling in his metaphorical grave over the fact that Alex is even considering this, but frankly, screw him.__

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Sure. I mean, why not?” Alex voices aloud, and Jason’s grin widens. Alex can’t help but smile in return, his own enthusiasm dim in the face of Jason’s blast of energy.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Cool! I’ll call them. Hang on a sec.” Jason drifts off into the crowd of listless partiers, phone in hand. Alex isn’t sure what to do next, so he just sort of sways to the music, self-consciously eyeing everyone around him. They don’t even spare him a glance.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _He has just started to worry about where Jason got off to, when the guy taps him on the shoulder and gestures toward the doors.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Ready to go?”__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Yeah.”__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _Alex follows Jason out into the evening air, which has been getting progressively colder with every day that passes. It was never like this back home. It’s just another part of New York that Alex is going to have to get used to.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _A breeze Alex can only describe as smelling of October blows past them as they navigate the streets of the city, twisting past old houses and new houses and medium age houses. Past people coming home for dinner, and ones going out for it. It’s nice, almost mundane, to walk and watch people pass in a steady flow. A reprieve, even within the insanity of the city.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“So, where are you from? You know, where’d you go to highschool?” Alex asks, when the silence becomes a bit too much.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _It hasn’t gone over his head that this is his roommate. A guy he should probably know at least a little about. But their schedules so far have kept them apart, and in the time they have hung out… Well, Alex had not been as present for Jason as he should have been, then.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Oh, you know. Raised on a farm in Nowhere, Illinois. The good ol’ fashioned farmboy backstory,” Jason replies easily, eyes fixed forward.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“What led you here?”__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“I knew a guy in town who moved to the big city and never came back. I guess I wanted that, too. Living on a farm, it’s pretty cool. You get to live in a world a lot of people don’t see. It’s, uh, grounding. But my family and I, uh, we don’t get along much.” Jason’s eyes flick over to Alex, roaming over his face. He almost looks like he is waiting for a hammer to fall, although Alex doesn’t know why.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“That’s fair,” Alex says, at a loss for anything better.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _Jason only nods, turning away again. “What about you?”__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“It’s been a bit of an adventure,” Alex tries to say in a flippant manner. It lands flat, and he continues after a tremulous second of panic, “I guess you could call my backstory kind of epic. I got to battle off the world as an orphan.” Alex hopes cocky swagger is the way to go with this, because he isn’t really sure how to get through this conversation without it.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Oh, really?” Jason raises an eyebrow.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _Alex grins and continues, his voice growing stronger. “Yeah, I guess I’m, like, built to be the protagonist of the tale. I’m all set up for it and everything. Tragic backstory, boldly moving to America, living in the city and trying to achieve my big dreams through a prestigious university. Training to be a lawyer, too. Perfect setup, don’t ya think?”__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“I’d say,” Jason replies, a twinkle in his eye. “You seem like you’re gonna do some great things.” Something about how he says reverberates inside Alex for a minute, which is ridiculous because it was just a nice comment, but still.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Uh, thanks.” Alex dips his head. He barely knows this guy, but he is… something else. Alex just gets this feeling off him, the same kind of feeling he got from Andrew at first. A sort of riptide, pulling him in toward them. It’s strange, but he supposes that’s how… allyships work. They draw you in toward certain people, or something like that. He doesn’t know, there haven’t been many proverbs created on the subject.__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _“Any particular reason you’re becoming a lawyer?”__

 _ _ ____

 __

 _ _ ____

 _ _The cold is becoming more biting the further they walk, and Alex shoves his hands in his uncomfortably small pockets. “Not really. I mean, I wanted to find a way to make a difference, and that’s one of the most direct. Plus, it’s not bad financially.”__

 _ _ ____

 __

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 _ _“True, true.” Jason keeps staring at him, as if his rambled thoughts are the most important thing in this moment. Which is sweet, and flattering, and a little uncomfortable. Alex isn’t used to it, to being paid attention to. He is often the center of attention, usually on purpose, but truly being listened to just for the sake of himself… This is something he’s finding more and more with the people in his life now, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know what to do with them.__

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 _ _“So,” he says, hoping deep down to push the attention off himself, “What’s your game plan?”__

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 _ _“I want to be an astrophysicist.”__

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 _ _Alex makes an incredulous noise and immediately regrets it, but Jason just flashes him a look. “I know, I sound crazy. Trust me, I’ve been warned about how hard it is to get into the field, but… there’s just something about the sky, about what’s out there. It gets me so hyped. There’s so much we don’t know, and just making a tiny dent in that unknown, just finding a few black holes, or adding a few pieces of data to a theory… That’s my dream, however impossible.”__

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 _ _“But all the math,” Alex whines, a moment before realization sets in. He is going for an economics degree. Exactly why had he thought that would be a good idea, he doesn’t know. Truthfully, he hates the numbers, hates the games he has to play with them to make them do what he wants. A flicker of doubt emerges, but one that he easily squashes. He’s good at math, and more importantly, he has a plan for success, and it includes getting through a math degree. It’s fine.__

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 _ _“But the math is the best part,” Jason continues, playfully nudging Alex’s shoulder. “It’s a language all its own, and an objective one, at that. No miscommunications in math, or no purposeful ones, at least.”__

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 _ _“Wow.” Hearing him talk like that, it almost makes Alex really believe in the beauty of math, before he remembers quadratic equations. For a moment, he thinks of it like Jason does, an intricate language communicating across languages, across cultures, across barriers. Eternal and perfect. It can never be wrong, for all its errors can be attributed to its flawed users.__

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 _ _“Thanks.” Jason sounds genuinely pleased by Alex’s response, which makes Alex feel pleased, as well. “Oh, we’re here!” he continues, and Alex blinks in surprise as Jason lightly takes his arm and starts dragging him up the marble stairs towards another brick building. Alex can’t shake off that feeling from before, of being just a little bit out of place.__

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 _ _Without hesitation, Jason raps on the door. A long, thin face flanked by strands of greasy hair pokes out a few seconds later and frowns at them. The feeling worsens. “I dun remember you.”__

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 _ _“Jason. Friend of Gilbert.”__

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 _ _“Really?” the face squints.__

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 _ _“You can ask him, if you like.”__

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 _ _Before the man has a chance to respond, another face pops out. This one has blond hair and a bright grin attached.__

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 _ _“Jason! So glad you could make it!” this new person exclaims, thrusting open the door fully and tackling Jason in a bear hug. Alex takes a step back, trying not to get trampled by a staggering Jason.__

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 _ _“And who are you?” Suddenly, the person has fixed his gaze on Alex. Their eyes are an interesting color, a pale blue that almost fades into grey. Swirling. Stormy. Glittering with excitement and curiosity.__

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 _ _“Uh, Alex. Alexander Hernandez. I’m Jason’s-”__

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 _ _“He’s my roommate, Gil. The one I told you about,” Jason interjects, gently maneuvering his friend backward a step.__

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 _ _“Oh!” Just like that, Gilbert’s face breaks out into another grin. Or maybe, it never stopped in the first place. “You should have just told me!” Their voice is rich with an accent Alex can’t quite place. It sounds a bit Scandinavian.__

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 _ _“Well, let us not waste time out here. Come in, come in!”__

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 _ _Gilbert beckons them into a party that is much closer to what Alex had expected. There is not a person in sight who is not clutching a red cup, and music booms through the house, so loud that Alex is surprised the windows haven’t shattered yet.__

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 _ _“All right, all right, ground rules. One, you pay for anything you break. Two, have some fun and loosen up!” Gilbert has to shout over the noise as they walk further into the hoard of bouncing teenagers.__

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 _ _“And three?” Alex asks as Gilbert grabs cups full of an unknown substance from a passing woman and hands them off to Jason and Alex.__

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 _ _“Three, there are no rules!” Gilbert declares proudly. In the next second, they are swept off into the crowd, leaving Alex and Jason to fight through the tide of jostling humans to find space alone.__

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 _ _“You ready for another adventure, oh great hero?” Jason asks, his eyes sparkling in the lighting.__

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 _ _“Let’s do this.”__

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__At one point or another, Alex had lost Jason to the throbbing horde. The air around him has become uncomfortably hot and sticky, and it feels like the crowd is pulsing in waves of motion. He is a salmon, trying to swim upstream but trapped by the current. Eventually, he gives up and roots himself in a corner of the kitchen. The music is quieter here. It isn’t half bad, really, if a bit on the cliché side, but the volume is too much. Even if it make him want to move, to dance.__

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Giving into the instinct out of pure boredom, he starts swaying gently to the beat of the loud sound. His movements are jerky and uncoordinated at first but steadily turn into a rhythmic head bop, which then evolves into his arms curving in all sorts of directions. Flexing and flopping about to a siren’s song. It’s hypnotizing. He can close his eyes and let the sound envelop him. He can become one with it. It’s almost like-

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A ringing pierces his ears, violently juxtaposed against the soothing layers of music. As he scrambles to come back to himself, he realizes it’s coming from his phone.

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Shit. In the rush of everything, he somehow forgot about Andrew. Son of a-

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“Hey, Andy, sorry!” he exclaims as he shoves the phone to his ear.

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“Hello, Alex.” Andy sounds strangely amused. Not angry. Not even disappointed.

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“I’m really, really sorry. I know, I should have sent you a message or something. Jason brought me to this frat party or something, and I totally forgot. I don’t even know where we are, somewhere about three, maybe five – or six? – blocks out from the campus center. I think we took a right.” It feels like his voice is hitting a new octave, becoming shriller as his sentences spiral on.

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“Take a breath, Alex.” Andy’s voice is hard to hear over the music, but his infuriating calm shines through clear as day.

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“Right, uh, yeah.”

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There is a pregnant pause as Alex follows his instruction.

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“So, a frat party?” Andy asks.

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“Yeah, um, Jason brought me here. I don’t know if that’s really your speed-”

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“Maybe not. But I am feeling a bit underwhelmed here, so perhaps-”

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“Great!” Alex interrupts, trying not to sound desperate but feeling the sudden need to latch onto something – someone – familiar. “I’ll text you some instructions, once I figure them out.”

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“See you soon,” Andy replies. The line goes dead before Alex can say anything in return. He breathes a sigh of relief.

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__It takes less time than Alex had expected to find Gilbert and retrieve their address, and even less time for Andy’s “Here” to arrive. Soon, Alex is facing his acquaintance from across the threshold of the building.__

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 _ _“You didn’t tell me you were a frat brother now,” Andy says in lieu of a greeting, pointedly staring at the party surging behind Alex.__

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“Yeah, as I said, Jason’s idea. Want to come in?” Alex gestures back toward the mob.

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Andy shrugs and steps in. “So, what’s there to do for fun in here?”

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“Drink this,” Alex shouts over whatever synth abomination is blasting now, thrusting his half-drunk cup of what he's pretty sure is water into Andrew’s hand. “It’ll make sure you don’t dehydrate. Sweat, you know.” He waves his hand vaguely at the air.

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“What?” Andrew frowns at him, gesturing to his ear. Alex waves a dismissive hand and mimes drinking an invisible cup but only manages to genuinely drink from his cup. He hopes Andrew got the message.

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“Can we go somewhere quieter?” Is what Alex thinks Andy says next, although he can’t be sure. Either way, he nods and steers them both toward his corner of the kitchen. Soon, they’re both jammed together next to the stove, Andy sipping experimentally at Alex’s cup and Alex trying to get a feel for the new song’s rhythm.

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Overall, he doesn’t like to think of it as hiding, but it certainly feels like it.

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“Are you having fun?” Andy asks finally, turning to Alex with a skeptically raised brow.

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“I like the music sometimes,” Alex tries.

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Andy’s sigh communicates many things, but Alex thinks the most prominent one is Andy’s profound distaste for this music, in particular. He’d once told Alex that he doesn’t think EDM music should even be considered music, much less labeled “good.” Alex can’t imagine his opinion has been declawed since.

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“Where’s your, uh, friend?” Andy asks next, tilting his head at Alex. Alex has been waiting for this one.

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“Out and about, somewhere. We got, mm, separated, and I think he is more… used to this whole thing than I am.”

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“Ah.” Andy looks painfully sympathetic, and Alex decides a change in topic is exactly what the doctor ordered.

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He doesn’t even manage a word, though, as a woman strides into the kitchen at that very moment. She practically screams confidence from head to toe, all heels and earrings and golden-framed glasses. Red solo cup in hand, looking for all the world like she belongs here.

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She lands by the sink, either not noticing or not caring about their presence, and huffs a breath. Stares at the silver drain like it has done something to personally offend her.

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“Every single time,” she mutters to the drain. The drain, predictably, does not respond, so Alex decides to.

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“Anything we can help with?” he asks, and she jumps back, her cup sloshing dangerously.

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“Sorry, sorry!” he apologizes immediately, taking a step back with his hands up. From behind him, he thinks he hears Andy stifles some sort of sound, although he can’t be sure.

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“No, you’re fine. Just… been in my own head for a while,” she replies, placing her cup on the counter and stepping forward. All enviable, unspoken confidence again. “What did you ask me?”

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“I just asked, ehm, if we could help. You seem…”

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“I don’t like parties,” she interrupts quickly, “Nothing more to worry about. Plus, my cousin always gets drunk and starts proclaiming her love for everyone, all while being passive aggressive about the secrets we keep. Gets a bit much after the fifth time.”

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“Understandable,” Andy comments, and her eyes snap to him. She examines him like he’s a piece of carpet that may or may not have been peed on in her absence. It freaks Alex out a bit, seeing the intensity in this random woman’s eyes.

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“Do I know you from somewhere?”

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“No, I don’t think you do.” Andy looks a bit freaked out, too. Maybe even a little afraid.

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“No, I think I do, I just… can’t place it.” She stares at him for several more seconds, before turning grabbing her cup again in one swift motion. “I better go back, before my cousin gets anxious. See you all around.”

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With that, she is gone once more in a flash. Somehow remaining just as strange and mysterious as she had seemed before they talked to her. What an enigma.

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“I’m going to go get something else to drink.” Andy disappears out the door as well, looking a little sick. Alex is feeling a bit off, too. Maybe that drink hadn’t been water, after all.

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Alex has moved from feeling queasy to outright nauseous in the last hour, and he isn’t sure why. It only worsens as he moves around the corners of the house, always sticking as long as he can in the quiet before some bumbling couple or some drunk student ruins it. It isn’t because of anything he ate or drank, he knows that much, although he doesn’t know how he knows this.

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It’s because of the faces.

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They all are weirdly familiar, in a hazy sort of way. He feels… wrong. In a way he doesn’t understand and doesn’t know how to understand.

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They keep coming up to him, people he doesn’t know, and he just… feels them. Feels that pull, that tug, toward each of them. Like a riptide. Like a fishing hook, embedded deep in his core, reeling him in.

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Okay, maybe he’s a little drunk. He found the drink table eventually and helped himself, in the desperate hope that it would make the unease go away. But now, everything is blurry, and it would be fun, except he keeps knocking into people and seeing their faces and just…

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He hasn’t seen Jason or Andy or anyone he knows in a while, only all the faces in the crowd that he knows he does not know and yet knows he knows. They all flicker with a spark of memory, but it’s- it’s- What’s the word for it?

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Warped. Yeah, that. That thing. That’s what it is. He knows them, but he can’t grasp the memories anymore because they’re all warped.

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He’s a bit warped himself, a bit skewed. Everything lurches sideways, and he lurches with it. Collides with, with something. Someone? A warm body, a person, with a halo of frizzy brown curls and a sleek suit and-

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And a familiar face. Just familiar enough to be out of the reach of his fragmented memory. A movie actor he can’t place because they’re ten years younger, or- or something.

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“Woah, buddy, you okay?”

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The words echo weirdly, like they’re in a cathedral. Or maybe that’s just his perception. Probably that. He is _very _drunk, isn’t he?__

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 _ _“Yeah, fine, how are you?” Alex is genuinely interested in the answer. Maybe the man can provide an explanation. For everything. Maybe he knows, understands, recognizes, too.__

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 _ _The man puts a hand on his shoulder. It’s soothing, although Alex doesn’t register the two sensations – sight and touch – at the same time. He assumes they were supposed to occur at the same time.__

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 _ _“There’s a lot of noise here,” Alex says, as explanation.__

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 _ _“Why don’t we go outside, man.” It’s not a question, so Alex doesn’t question it. They move, through the shuffling and the screaming. Alex thinks it’s good screaming. That’s a new type of screaming, one he’s just invented. Happy screams.__

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 _ _“You all right?” They’re outside now, on a balcony. Alex doesn’t remember going to the second floor, but apparently that’s where they are now. The balcony’s railing is cold marble, cold like the exterior of the house. The façade. Inside, it is too hot. Too pressing. Too much.__

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 _ _Funny, how these things work.__

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 _ _“Bud. Seriously, you good?” the man asks again, and Alex wonders why he’s repeating himself for a moment, but then he realizes he didn’t answer the first time. How rude of him. He’s a guest, an imposter, he needs to shut up and pretend…__

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 _ _“Good?” He isn’t sure why he said that, but he did. He should try again, with something more concrete. Only, he isn’t sure what his answer is. He feels trapped and alone and afraid, all the time. He’s afraid for his education, for his future, for the people he knows. Limited though they might be. He’s scared of how they see him. He knows how other people look at the kid always talking out in class. Even if he doesn’t know the answer, so desperate to prove himself that he’ll say anything to be the center of attention. Yet, he shies away from anyone actually getting to know him.__

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 _ _Deep down, he’s scared of how he sees others, too. He’s not an idiot – he knows using words like “acquaintance” and “ally” and “team-building” are all well and good until you get attached. Then, you have to do the hard, dangerous work of being a “friend,” and that, above everything else, scares Alex right to his core. He doesn’t know how to be a friend to anyone. He doesn’t know how to help other people, how to help Andy. He doesn’t even know how to help himself.__

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 _ _At the end of the day, he is just an orphan who worked his way up and has no idea what to make of it now that’s he’s so close to actually getting somewhere. He isn’t sure he wants the future he’s designed so meticulously for himself, and he’s too scared to admit that maybe all that hard work, those endless years, were for nothing but a dream he doesn’t really believe in.__

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 _ _And now, now he’s seeing all these people he half-recognizes. As if they’re more dream than reality, a blurred line he’s crossed somewhere along the road. He doesn’t know what to do with that, with the pain that burrows its way into his chest, and the bile that burns its way up his throat. Just like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, or his life, or any of it.__

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 _ _So, how the fuck is he, really?__

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 _ _“I’m fine,” he says, lying through his teeth and yet meaning it at the same time.__

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 _ _“Right.” It’s clear this guy doesn’t believe him. No one ever means it when they say, “I’m fine”, through clenched teeth and two or three or maybe five cups of whatever he’s been drinking.__

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 _ _So, they stand there in silence as the cold New York night sets into his bones and his lies shift beneath the skin of his temples. The lights of the city glimmer and glow, shining up into the dark as if humans can somehow beat back the void through sheer, stubborn will. The stars aren’t even visible from here. It makes him feel overwhelmingly mournful, for some reason. This brash human choice to ward off the darkness has cost them the light of the stars. The vastness of the universe has been discarded, out of fear.__

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 _ _In a city like this, some are never lonely. Jason is never lonely. At least, Alex doesn’t think he’s lonely. Jason just adapts and thrives. But some, some just get lonelier and lonelier. Until they implode in their own well of, of, of loneliness. Isolated within the millions until they feel like nothing but a speck.__

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 _ _Alex feels like he is going to vomit.__

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 _ _He is so very far from home. So far from the people he’s spent so much of his life living with and treating like the family he never had. They’d cared for him, tolerated him and his babbling words. Maybe even loved him, in ways that he had never understand but had survived on, anyway.__

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 _ _Now, he is trapped, an ocean away and surrounded on every side by rich frats throwing up in the yard and people bouncing to a nameless tune inside and a guy he barely knows smoking a cigarette beside him. Smoke wafts into the black, the grey color stark against the background darkness. He wants to ask this man anything and everything, but the words get choked up in his throat and come out over the railing in a horrendous display of his own mistakes tonight.__

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 _ _Once he’s wiped his mouth clean, and the man has stopped patting him on the back, Alex thanks him and quickly scurries back into the party. He still can’t find any of the others, but he needs to leave. Just needs to go, before he dredges up any more of the difficult emotions that he’s fought so hard to repress. He’s supposed to be happy, to be successful, to be satisfied.__

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 _ _He’s not supposed to be regretful.__

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 _ _He brushes past Gil on his way out, makes some quick apologies. Tells Gil to tell Jason he’s sorry he couldn’t stay longer. His eyes sting, as they inform him politely that they can’t decide who this human is but that they are awfully familiar. Alex tells them to shut up and leaves before he can determine whether he said that out loud or not.__

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 _ _As he staggers out of the door, narrowly avoiding sick that might just be his own, a voice calls out to him. He recognizes it, distantly. It’s laced through, too, with the other memories. So familiar, but that’s because it is familiar, he tells himself. His eyes adjust, and he can see the of course familiar form of Andy. Good ol’ Andy.__

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 _ _“Alex! You look like hell.” Andy’s eyes are narrowed, probably in concern, and much closer than Alex had expected. Up close like this, Alex can see all the wrinkles of tension that crease Andy’s face like fault lines. He wonders what will happen if too many earthquakes rock his foundations. Will he split apart?__

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 _ _“Andy, yeah, yeah. I’m great.” He plays up the drunkenness, a bit. It’s easier, to pretend he’s having the time of his life. The world is spinning, anyway, and all the colors smudge like an oil painting, so he supposes it could be fun, if he wanted it to be.__

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 _ _“We’re taking a cab.” On second thought, playing up the drunk bit, not a good idea. Although maybe a cab is good, because Alex is feeling more and more unsteady on his feet. How many blocks is it home? Which direction is home?__

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 _ _“Just let me…” Andy trails off as he whips out his ancient relic of a phone out of nowhere, typing something in while keeping half an eye on Alex. Something occurs to Alex, at this moment of all moments. Something particularly funny. He giggles at the thought, gesturing vaguely at Andrew’s phone when the man starts to stare. He’ll get it, eventually.__

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 _ _“What?” Andrew asks, and that only makes Alex laugh harder. It feels nice, laughing. Resolves a little of the shakiness in his limbs, or at least disguises it.__

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 _ _“Nothing, nothing.” There are tears now, running down Alex’s cheeks as he fights off waves of laughter. It’s not even that funny, but it also is, because he’d just never thought of it before now, and isn’t life funny with its little eccentricities?__

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 _ _“What?” Andrew’s tone is more annoyed now, or concerned, or both. He pockets his phone, and the reminder of the start of this joke sends Alex off again.__

 _ _“It’s just,” he finally explains, taking pity on Andrew, “You’re such an old soul. You complain about shitty electronic music, you don’t like fun or parties, your phone is fucking ancient… You’re like, you’re, you’re like an old man.”__

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 _ _Alex is surprised to discover that there is, in fact, a taxi waiting for them. Like magic. Or it could have to do with the phone Andy had been hacking away at, after all. Either one. Alex can’t remember how long they’ve been standing here. It must have been a bit if a taxi already got here. He shrugs to himself and decides to dismiss those worries in exchange for the more pressing concern of what will happen when he gets inside a confined space with a nauseous stomach.__

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“What happens if I puke?” he manages as Andrew shepherds him toward the open black door.

“Don’t worry about it, Alex, I’ll deal with it.” 

___“You’re really nice, d’you know that?” Alex fixes Andrew with his most sincere stare, even if the effect is undercut a little by the way his vision (and maybe his body) is swaying back and forth.___

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 _ _ _“Thank you, Alexander. Now, could you please get in the taxi?”___

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 _ _ _Alex does as he is told and watches with rapt attention as the car begins to pick up speed down the brightly lit streets. Leaving the frat house and all its horrors behind. Lights flash outside the window and blur into beautiful streaks. That’s nice. He likes this part of being drunk, the more artistic view of the world. Maybe he should become an artist, while he’s reconsidering his entire life. Why not? Did he ever like anything about his economics degree, anyway? No, he didn’t.___

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 _ _ _“Are you all right, Alex?”___

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 _ _ _People keep asking him this question, and he really wishes they would stop. Not because he doesn’t like being… cared for, or anything, it’s just, he still doesn’t have an answer.___

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 _ _ _He makes a noncommittal noise, not feeling up to lying at this particular moment in time. The lights are making shapes now, and he wonders if they are doing that just because he’s staring at them or if they naturally do that. Form things unable to be comprehended by simple human minds, so they get rationalized away until all that’s left is a bulb on a stand or a light in a window. When truly they are so much more than that.___

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 _ _ _“Alex.” The tone is soft, like being wrapped in a hug. He turns toward the sound. Andy is mostly shadowed in the dark on the other side of the taxi. The dark side of the moon, hiding from Alex’s sun.___

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 _ _ _“Mm?” he questions, hoping that grunts are all he needs to communicate.___

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 _ _ _“Do you- I mean.” Andy takes a deep breath, and a shudder of apprehension goes through Alex. The last time he saw Andrew this nervous, it all went to absolute shit. He can pick up the pieces, will do it in a heartbeat (if he even can), but he needs to be prepared for it.___

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 _ _ _Andy starts again, “Do you remember anything?”___

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 _ _ _Alex is confused. Remember what? Did something happen at the party? Did he forget some big event? Forget saying something nasty?___

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 _ _ _He decides using his words isn’t that big of a challenge to overcome, if he must. “Remember what?”___

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 _ _ _“Never mind.”___

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 _ _ _Alex very much does not want to “never mind.” Because he is concerned, and he can see in the lines around Andrew’s eyes – old eyes, older than they have any right to be – that there is something wrong. He just wants to help, but he can barely form coherent thought, and Andrew’s hurt goes deeper than he understands, than he can ever understand.___

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 _ _ _“What d’ya mean? What should I remember?” It’s in his nature to press farther for the truth. The part that had always suited him in lawyering. He just hopes it’s not about to wreck one of the only good things going for him right now.___

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 _ _ _“Just… It’s nothing, Alex. If you know, you know. If you don’t…” Andy cuts himself off with a purse of his lips, “I shouldn’t have even asked.” He looks upset now, shrinking into the darkness so much that Alex reaches for him out of instinct.___

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 _ _ _He’s not sure what he’s doing, but he pulls on Andrew’s arm. Pulls him closer.___

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 _ _ _Andy complies. Somehow. Scooches a little closer, toward the shimmering lights. They play on his face and make funny shapes. The city of lights, the one that never sleeps. It lives up to its reputation, at least.___

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 _ _ _That makes Alex smile, and Andrew smiles back. It’s wavery, weak, but it’s enough.___

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 _ _ _Alex may not be satisfied with his life right now, or with how any of tonight went, but he can have this. This moment in a taxi he’ll probably throw up in, heading to God-only-knows-where, drunk as a skunk for only the second time in his life, with a friend he’s only just met a few weeks ago. One he barely knows. One who barely knows him.___

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 _ _ _They’re comfortably suited to each other, though. Like puzzle pieces, clicking together.___

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 _ _ _Alex continues smiling, grinning into the void and the light and the everything. For a moment, he knows his answer.___

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You gotta feel for our baby boy. He's been through a lot, and he doesn't even know it.
> 
> In other news, I think this is the longest chapter I've uploaded for this fanfic, so wooohooo! As a result, it came out a teeny bit late, but I hope you all enjoy, nonetheless. Stay gorgeous!


	12. Now Be Sensible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, people can just be like that.

Streamers lie fully streamed out across the floor. Red beer cups (a classic choice) are scattered every which way. There is even a man asleep under the dining table who Jason is studiously avoiding. 

So, all things considered, it had been a great party, although a pretty darn busy one from Jason’s experience. Gil tends to throw the most outrageous bashes. One time, they had- 

“Why is everything about you?” 

“It’s you whose making it about me!” 

Jason sighs, his thoughts cut off by his friends’ whining. He decides to table his nostalgic trip down memory lane for now, twin feelings of remorse and dread arising from the choice. He’ll just have to save it for later. Right now, he’s gotta stop another cousin fight from erupting. 

He emerges into the absolute mess that is the living room to find Elena and Adrianna facing off against one another, both looking extremely drunk. It seems no one else has decided to join the scene other than a bored-looking Lin, so damage control time it is for him. Yippee. 

“Hey, guys.” He tries to act nonchalant and not like he is purposefully interjecting into their ‘conversation.’ They ignore him, which c’mon, that’s just rude. So, he starts bagging up the cups in the room, still keeping half an ear and an entire eye on the progression of their argument. 

“Look, I’m sorry for making it a thing. I always make it a thing…” 

“There you are, you’re doing it again. Elena, you can’t, can’t just make it all about your guilt whenever someone confronts you about something, okay?” 

A fair point, if only they didn’t get into this exact same argument nearly every other weekend. At least whenever there’s a party, and an opportunity to get drunk. Jason is sick of hearing the same fair points, over and over again. Maybe he should ask Gil to stop inviting them unless they agree to behave decently toward each other. He mulls the thought but realizes that it would probably just make things worse. Heaven forbid they start arguing in the rest of their hangout time, instead. 

“You think you know everything, don’t you? Why can’t you just listen to me?” 

“Why do you never, ever accept my-” Adrianna flails around for the word for a moment, hands gesticulating wildly. Jason wishes someone else would show up soon. “My critique? I don’t know, why can’t you listen to me either?” 

“Talk about turning things on other people.” 

“That’s not what we were talking about! See, you never listen.” 

“And you’re such a saint.” 

“At least I don’t go around telling everyone else they’re bad people for not giving me everything I want all the time. Sometimes, it’s nice to-” 

"Ladies, I hate to interrupt.” No, he really doesn’t. “But there’s a coupla-” Jason gestures vaguely at the cups littering the floor around the women. They nod and step aside in unison. He has been hoping for the past year that someday they’ll realize just how alike they are, just how much common ground they have between them. Someday very near in their future, or there’s no way he’ll get through sophmore year as a sane man. 

Most of the time, they’re great friends, especially if he wants to blow off some steam. And for… the harder bits, too. But when they act like this… 

“How’s the clean-up going in here, then?” 

Jason could hug Harry right now and decides to do just that. He might be a tiny bit drunk, as well, but at least he’s the huggy type and not the punch-your-cousin-in-the-face type. Harry looks a little surprised by the sudden display of affection, but honestly, he should be used to it by now. Jason and Harry have known each other practically since the planets were formed and never has Jason not taken an opportunity to hug the rough-and-rumble guy. And never has Harry refused one. 

They’re just like that, all of them. Together, unstoppable. Separate, a bit of an awkward mess. It’s part of their charm, or so Jason likes to think. 

“So, uh, what’s goin’ on here?” Harry asks once they’ve separated again. 

“I’m cleaning, the girls are fighting, and Lin…” Jason trails off and leans so he can see the streamer-strewn couch behind Harry, where Lin is perched on her phone. “What are you doing, Lin?” 

“Research,” she replies evenly. Everything’s always even with Lin. 

Jason nods and turns back to Harry. “Lin is researching.” 

“Right.” Harry doesn’t seem to know what to do with that, so he simply shrugs and starts piling more abandoned cups into Jason’s bag. “Have you seen Gil around anywhere?” 

“I thought they were tackling the upstairs.” 

“Eh, I checked. Maybe they needed some cool-down time. That was one hell of a party.” 

Harry looks like he could use some cool-down time, too. He might enjoy the more flamboyant sides of fashion, but parties have never been his scene. Jason feels a little bad for the guy, particularly ‘cause he fell for a total party type. Or, at least, that’s according to the “earth-shattering” announcement Gil made earlier tonight. Not that anyone was really surprised, but it was cute that they had tried to keep a secret. Even Elena had known about it, despite not knowing about it as soon as she might have liked. Speaking of… 

“Hey, look, you can keep searching for Gil if you want, but if you could help me down here with these guys first, I’d really appreciate it.” Jason adds his best puppy dog eyes to the request, and Harry gives him a signature glare before sighing in what Jason knows is agreement. 

“You’re a lifesaver.” 

“Just don’t wear me down, sucker. Oi, gals!” He marches off in their direction. Jason had been trying to tune them out ever since Harry came down, and tuning back in reveals nothing new except more flavors of the same bickering. Harry does have a way of breaking up their fights pretty peacefully, though, so Jason only feels a little guilty for saddling him with this one. He’ll make it up to the dude later, when he’s less drunk and more well-rested. 

At least this party had been worth it. Only, he’s pretty sure he lost his roommate, Alex, somewhere in the mix. He hopes the dude’s okay. Sometimes, these shindigs can be a bit much, particularly your first go-around. Ah, he remembers the first time he came to a Gil-level event- 

“Jason! Can you help me explain to Adrianna that she needs to listen to what her cousin tells her about being listened to?” 

Guess Harry’s calling in that favor a lot sooner than Jason had expected. He dumps his bag down in a relatively cleaned out corner and heads over to where the argument has become a triangle of negativity. It’s just how they are, sometimes, all of them. Every once in a while. 

Part of their charm, he reminds himself. Just part of their charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure what happened to this chapter. Originally, it was supposed to be about Alex and his emotions, then it turned into a post-celebration scene with everyone's favorite side characters, and somehow, it just morphed from there into a mini story about friendship and (some of) its eccentricities. I don't know, but this is what we've got now. Hope you enjoyed!


	13. Our Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting is a difficult thing, even when you're so used to it.

Andrew is nothing if not an idiot at all times. It’s a skill, really, one he’s carefully cultivated over his many, many years of life. Now, he has achieved peak moronic form. He has ascended into the higher realms of nitwittery, where only the most incomprehensively foolish may walk. Surrounded on every side by folks like Andrew Jackson (thank any gods that may or may exist that he hasn’t been reincarnated… yet) and Dan Quayle, he is at home. 

It’s hard not to feel like maybe this is just how things are meant to be. He’s meant to be a terrible fool who is always too slow, right up until the moment when he isn’t. The moment when he dives in with that dimwitted ferocity that will eventually drive him to his second grave. 

Last night, he had asked Alex the Question, the one question he should never, ever have asked. The all-important thought on the tip of his tongue, haunting his every word with the man, but a thought that should have been swallowed and forgotten. Now, it’s out there. 

Now, it’s only a matter of time. 

Only a matter of time before Alex figures it out and shuts Andrew out. He has every reason to, after all. Andrew killed him in another life. That’s not something that can be fixed with a few sweet words and a pretty enough smile. That’s something that tears people apart, if they even live to deal with it. As it so happens, they are those lucky individuals who beat out death at its own game and have to work through the ramifications. 

And he asked Alex if he remembers anything. 

Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot. It had all been going so well. He had finally felt like the relationship between the two of them was starting to click. Maybe it was that he had decided to spend more time with Alex, maybe both of them were more open to each other after Andrew’s little outburst, maybe it was just happenstance. In any case, things had actually seemed to be looking up, so of course, that’s when Andrew has to ruin it for himself. 

Still. If Alex does remember… He deserves to know. He deserves to know that Andrew isn’t quite who he is pretending to be. He deserves to see behind the curtain. 

Andrew should have waited, though. He should have let things play out their course naturally. Maybe if he had given it more time, they could have truly become friends. Now, it’s only a matter of time before Alex confronts him about his little interrogation last night and finds out the truth. 

There is one shred of hope left in Andrew as he stares up at the ceiling of his apartment and regrets his life choices. Alex had seemed confused when he brought up the subject of remembrance. It’s probably nothing, just his intoxicated state getting in the way of understanding, but there’s a chance, however slim, that Alex genuinely doesn’t remember. 

But that’s a whole other can of worms that Andrew really isn’t in the mood to open, because if he doesn’t remember, that’s only going to make things more complicated. Instead of dwelling on those thoughts, Andrew hauls himself out of bed, shoving aside his whirling inner monologue for a later date. There’s nothing to do now but wait. The one thing he promised to never do again in this new life he’s carving for himself, but he was the one who jumped in too fast with the Question. Waiting with bated breath for Alex’s imminent rejection isn’t too bad a punishment, all things considered, even if Andrew is sure there is worse to come on the other side of that chasm of suspense. 

My, he’s already exhausted from his railings at himself, and it’s not even five am. Not to mention he’s got work to do today – studying, some dull reading for Greek Literature, an essay for Constitutional Law. 

It’s going to be a long day. 

So, Andrew’s going to at least start it right. Well, continue it right, at any rate. As is his ritual for mornings when he can feel the persistent beat, beat, beat of a headache bearing down, Andrew heads to Coffee Be Black. The quaint exterior of the café looks forlorn in the grey light of early morning, but the ‘open’ sign grants him a momentary smile. Morgan always opens early when it’s her shift, and it does seem to be hers more often than not. Andrew has only ever seen two other baristas at this shop. That’s what he loves about it. 

The bell rings in his ears as he enters, a little loud for his liking but comfortingly familiar all the same. Morgan is perched behind the counter, phone in one hand, mug in the other. She’s sipping some frothy concoction, probably of her own design, and intently staring at whatever is on her screen. Every once in a while, she types something in as well. Andrew awkwardly positions himself just to the side of the counter, so as not to immediately break her away from her reverie. 

It’s a short wait. Morgan looks up from her phone a minute later and frowns at Andrew. 

“Why didn’t ya tell me you were there?” 

“Courtesy.” 

“Ah. Fuckin’ courtesy, as usual. Hate the stuff myself, but who am I to judge?” She shrugs and sets her phone and mug to the side, busying her newly freed hands with making Andrew’s standard order. “How’s life?” 

“As good as can be expected. You?” Andrew makes a pointed gesture toward the staff room, and she shakes her head. 

“No more trouble. I told you I’d let ya know if it happened again.” 

“Just making sure.” 

“Thanks.” She flashes him a brief smile, and he finds himself just managing a smile back. This last week has certainly been a rollercoaster, but he thinks his ability to show his emotions, particularly positive ones, is improving. He’s been working on it. If he’s going to try to be friends with people, he is going to need to communicate with them, after all. 

That’s why he had asked. Part of why he had asked. In that way, he can’t judge past him too harshly. Asking was the right thing to do, even if it was the hard thing to do, and the possibly very disastrous thing to do. 

“Sooo,” she drags out the ‘o’ as if she wants to create a sentence out of the one word alone. “Got anything new to share? Any life events, big things happening, people in particular…?” 

He can tell what she’s fishing for, and nearly snorts aloud at the very suggestion of it. Relationships aren’t exactly in his wheelhouse at the moment. He voices that thought to her. 

“Aw, c’mon. You’re no fun, you know that?” She hands him his steaming cup of black coffee, and he shrugs as he gives her his card. 

“So I’ve been told.” 

“You should try it for a change, y'know. Being fun. Just… getting crazy, for a day. Doing something wacky, or going out with someone, or running through a field with your hair blowing in the wind.” She rolls her eyes at his barely suppressed laughter at that. “Having a wild time,” she finishes resolutely. 

“I will try,” he responds. Deep down, the suggestions are interesting, from a purely intellectual point of view. What would it be like to let loose? Even at the party last night, he hadn’t fit in with the raving teenagers, bouncing along to the music and losing track of the world around them. He was too painfully aware of the events surrounding both of his lives to ever even consider blending in with that crowd. He’d seen Alex try to do the same thing and look where he had ended up. Drunk and nearly in tears about a taxi. 

Although, Andrew does have to admit, Alex looked like he was having the time of his life for a moment there. A moment when it seemed like, despite Andrew’s mistake, they were both alive and well, and everything was all right. That had been nice. 

But then, Alex had fallen into silence, and the weight of the world had crashed back onto Andrew’s shoulders, and he had felt all too fragile and hated once again. He has already lived his youth. He doesn’t deserve to live it again, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t think he could, anyway. 

“You okay, buddy?” 

Andrew tunes back into the world to see Morgan staring at him, one eyebrow raised in what looks like concern. He half-shrugs, half-nods and starts backing out the door. “Fine. See you around, Morgan.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Take care of yourself, won’t you?” she calls after him, but he’s already through the door and back out into world beyond the safety of the shop. 

Nothing but grey all around, as the sun hovers just on the edge of rising. Nothing but grey inside, as well, a swirling storm of morality and its flaws. Andrew doesn’t know why he bothers with it all, really. It’d be so much easier to return to his old ways, sink back into the destructive patterns of pride and loss and disconnection that had accompanied the years he had once erroneously considered to be his last. 

He can’t be that person anymore, though. He promised himself he wouldn’t become that again. So, it’s back to the waiting game for Aaron Burr. He has to allow time and Alex to decide his fate. 

For better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite song from the musical, so I hope I did its chapter justice. :)


	14. Provoke Outrage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there is one thing Andrew excels at, it's overthinking. If there's one thing Alex excels at, it's overtalking. 
> 
> That's usually true, at least.

“Take a break.” 

“I can’t.” 

“You’re going to work yourself to death, you know that?” Andrew sighs, distantly hoping he’s not just accidentally challenged the universe to a duel of irony. 

“Like you’re one to talk. You memorized all our textbooks before coming here.” Alex doesn’t even look up as he makes this stinging remark. Which means he can’t see the excellent acting Andrew is putting into appearing mock-offended. He’s been picking up some of what the kids these days do, in an effort to appeal to Alex’s more modern personality traits, and he’s pinpointed this as something he can definitively do. Theatre _has _always fascinated him.__

__“I have a lot of free time,” he shoots back, giving up on the increasingly ridiculous expressions he’s been trying on. He is in a public library, after all. He should start acting like it._ _

__Sitting in the chair across from Alex, he stares the other man down. The other man in question doesn’t even have the decency to notice, too intent on his textbook. Andrew knows he’s stressed about midterms. Everyone is. They’re all terrified, Andrew most assuredly included. While he’s ridden this train before, education now is not what it was then. Things are different, harder in many ways. There’s more pressure. He doesn’t want to think about what his two-year degree would have felt like if he tried it again at this college. Not fun, he expects._ _

__Still, Alex closing up like this, now of all times… It just makes him edgy, is all. After everything that happened this weekend, Andrew wants to spend time with Alex, wants to convince him he’s still worth keeping around. It’s probably not fair to Alex. He should probably leave him alone, let him sort out the turmoil that is most likely raging in his head, but he just can’t. He can’t leave it, him, alone. He wants to be part of Alex’s life, in whatever way the other man will let him, and since he hasn’t been openly dismissed yet… He has hope for the future. But the present, the present is another matter. Because Alex just won’t talk to him.__

 _ _They’ve been at this library for three hours, while Alex studies his textbooks and notes, and Andrew studies his f- acquaintance. Acquaintance. Not once in that time has Alex bothered to make any sort of attempt at conversation. Which is unusual for him, and alarming for Andrew. He’ll wait for as long as Alex needs to figure this out. He’s good at waiting. And whatever Alex decides, Andrew will go with it._ _

__He just wishes he knew what that was going to be, though._ _

__“Do you need anything? Water, tea, coffee?” Andrew asks, at a loss. His own textbook on Socrates lies forgotten on the edge of the long wooden table, the sketched visage of the philosopher gazing up at him with accusatory eyes. He ignores it._ _

__“No, thank you.”_ _

__“Are you certain?”_ _

__“Yup.”_ _

__Alex doesn’t seem mad, at least. Not on the surface, anyway. He just seems… focused. Resolved. Overextended. It’s to be expected, but- but Andrew just wishes he could do something about it. Get Alex to talk to him, about that whole mess or just about anything._ _

__Maybe he can settle for the next best thing._ _

__“Hey, Alex?”_ _

__“Mm?”_ _

__“Is there a meeting for that, uhm, Debate Club this week?”_ _

__“Mhm.”_ _

__“When?”_ _

__“Mmm, sometime. I, uh.” Page flip. “I think it’s tomorrow, at noon. The professor’s been shifting it around to try and attract new members. Can’t always just be us, after all.” Alex still won’t look at him, either because he’s too focused on his textbook or because he finds the sight of his murderer too disturbing. But he’s talking, so it’s a start._ _

__“Uh-huh, right. Thank you.”_ _

__“Mhm.”_ _

__Andrew jots down a quick note in his schedule._ _

__Operation: Get Alex Talking Again is a go._ _

__~~~***~~~__

__“Oh, good to see you boys again! How was the Fall, ehm, what’s it called?”__

 _ ___

“The Fall Festival,” Andrew fills in.

 _ ___

“Oh yes! How was it?” Professor Mayhill nods excitedly along to her words, and Andrew attempts a smile in her direction. It’s not entirely unsuccessful.

 _ ___

“It was good.” The answer is clipped, almost forced. Nothing at all like Alex’s usual over-exuberant tones, the words that rush out of his mouth like an unstoppable, flooding river. Andrew bites back a grimace.

 _ ___

“Good, good. In other good news, I got an email from another student interested in the club! She says she’ll be around shortly.” Professor Mayhill does what looks to be a happy wiggle. She continues, all flushed cheeks and a humongous smile, “Excited for today’s meeting, boys?”

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“Yep.” Alex averts his gaze to the room around him. Everything’s gotten even worse since yesterday, and this isn’t helping. Yet.

 _ ___

“Yes, ma’am,” Andrew replies, hoping his winning smile will fill the space Alex’s enthusiasm usually takes up. (It doesn’t.)

 _ ___

“How long?” Alex asks suddenly, the words coming out too fast to be casual, and Andrew’s smile slides off like water off a duck’s back. If there’s one thing he knows about Alex, it’s that, while patience may not be his strongest suit, being kind to Professor Mayhill is.

 _ ___

“Until what, dear?”

 _ ___

“Until the new woman gets here,” Alex replies. He’s holding himself more stiffly, his normal slouch gone. He’s pacing, too, in tiny circles around the nearest desk. Fidgeting with his hands, his trousers, anything he can find.

 _ ___

“Oh, shouldn’t be but a tick.” At least Professor Mayhill seems unfazed by Alex’s antsy behavior.

 _ ___

“Right, good.”

 _ ___

“Thank you,” Andrew says to the professor, trying to keep the concern off his face.

 _ ___

The next three minutes feel like a century. The ticking of the clock in the corner settles a rhythmic pattern into Andrew’s skull as he watches Alex pace and fidget and pace some more. Professor Mayhill seems as joyful as ever, sitting behind her desk and grading some papers in red ink while they wait. Andrew wishes he had that level of mastered calm at his disposal. He feels like he lost any last vestiges of his once unflappable façade when he met Alex, which only makes the whole thing that much worse.

 _ ___

“Alex,” Andrew hisses, once they reach the three-minute mark. The other man looks up, almost appearing surprised at the fact he’s being addressed.

 _ ___

“Sit down,” Andrew insists.

 _ ___

Alex shrugs but flops into one of the seats. Another two centuries (minutes) pass. Andrew tries to count the curves and spots in the blank white wall nearest him. Professor Mayhill’s pen goes scratch, scratch, scratch on her students’ paper entries. Alex taps his foot on the floor, creating yet another repetitive noise to be jammed into Andrew’s brain. __

 _ ___

 _Tic toc, tic toc._

 _ ___

 _Scratch, scratch, scratch._

 _ ___

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap._

 _ ___

 _Tic toc, tic toc._

 _ ___

 _Scratch, scratch, scratch._

 _ ___

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap._

 _ ___

 _Tic toc tic t-_

 _ ___

 _ _The door opens with a creak, and Andrew has to restrain a sigh of relief. Then, he notices who has come into the room, and his stomach drops. If pressed, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact reason why it does that, although he could make an educated guess.__

 _ ___

 _ _The woman stands in the doorway, and it’s not the gold-framed glasses or the flowing brown hair that makes his breath catch in his throat. It’s her stance, her confidence, her obvious intelligence. He can tell everything and nothing about her at the same time. She wears a masquerade mask fitted too well to the curves of her face to see where her skin begins.__

 _ ___

 _ _And he knows her, goddamnit, he knows her, but he doesn’t know why.__

 _ ___

 _ _“Oh, hey, you’re the girl from the party, right?” It’s Alex who speaks up. He stands from his chair, and Andrew finally sees a glimpse of the old Alex again, all excited eyes and enthusiastic poking into things that he really shouldn’t touch. It’s not much, but it’s something.__

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 _ _“Yes.” Her answer is slow, measured. Testing out the waters. She squints at Alex. “You’re the boy from the kitchen? The one who…?” She trails off as her gaze flicks to Andrew, and all at once, it feels like he’s a butterfly pinned to the wall. Helpless, unable to do anything but be scrutinized. It feels like what Alexander used to do, sometimes, when he was trying to figure Andre- Burr out.__

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 _ _“And you’re…” She doesn’t finish once again, but this time it’s clear to Andrew what she’s saying, because he feels it, too. Something about this situation is ringing very clear, very loud bells in his head, and he has a very bad feeling about what that means.__

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 _ _“Uh, hi again, I guess.” Alex rocks up and sticks out a hand to her. She meets his eyes and takes an involuntary step back. She looks as if she’s just seen a ghost. Like he’s watching a glass fall off a counter in slow motion, Andrew can see exactly where this is going. He can see exactly where and why this disaster will begin and how it will unfold, but he can do nothing to stop it.__

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 _ _“I’m Alex. Nice to officially meet you.”__

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 _ _She slaps him. All in all, not the worst thing that could have happened in this situation.__

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooo~ Intrigue! Adventure! Slappage! And more to come, next week. ;)


	15. Confess Your Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation ensues. But does the subject of it even know why it's happening? No. No, he doesn't.

“Ow!” Alex rubs his cheek and glares at the woman. She glares back, seemingly unfazed by the fact _she _was the one who slapped _him _. He doesn’t even know her name, and yet she’s attacking him? What is her problem?____

___"Why are you here,” she asks, her affect flat enough that Alex isn’t sure if it’s actually a question or not. He’s about to make words happen, strong words, when suddenly Andy’s at his elbow, looking all lawyer-y out of the blue._ _ _

___“Knock it off, A-” Andy falters, and is it just Alex’s imagination, or does his gaze flit to Alex before he continues with a forced, “Ma’am.”_ _ _

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Something about that lights a fire in her eyes, and she takes a step forward, gaze focused on Andy now. Alex holds his cheek and tries not to pout. That slap really hurt. 

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“Oh, and you’re going to stop me? I would have thought you were all for a little violence, huh, B-” 

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“I’m going to have to ask you to leave this club if you’re going to continue treating us this way, _ma’am _.” Andy’s face has gone disturbingly blank, and he stands rigidly, facing off against this mystery woman.__

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“Is that so? Because, I thought this country was a free one.” 

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“You slapped him.” 

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“It was what he deserved, and you know it. After what he did to-” 

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“This is not the time. The time for this conversation was many years ago, and-” 

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“Oh, yes, of course. Silly me. I should have had this conversation with his-” 

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“An- Ma’am, please.” 

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“Just say it. You’re practically stuttering over it. Just. Say it.” 

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“No,” Andy snaps, and the woman flinches back but stands her ground. 

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“Fine. It’s Adrianna now, anyway. Not that you would care.” 

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“That isn’t fair-” 

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“If we were talking fair, I’d do a whole lot worse to you than I did to him. I'd eviscerate you. Scrape out your spine and serve it to you on a platter. Would you like me to do that?” If her eyes were like fire before, now they rage across the treetops of a massive forest. An inferno that reaches to the sky, angry and blackened with ash. 

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“If you’re going to do it, do it. Otherwise, _back off _.” Andy doesn’t waver, spine straighter than Alex thinks he’s ever seen it. He looks like he’s accepting some sort of prison sentence, and Alex wonders, not for the first time, what the actual hell is happening here. Maybe they’re exes? They certainly have that kind of back and forth, and it would make sense why they’re so… angry at each other. But not why she’s so angry with him.__

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Alex’s conspiracy theories are put on hold when the woman, Adrianna, whirls on him again. The needle-pricks of black at the center of her eyes seem to zoom in, latch onto his very soul. He tries not to audibly gulp. 

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“And you. Why are you so silent all of a sudden?” 

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“Uh…” Alex replies, intelligently. 

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“He doesn’t need to answer your questions, Adrianna.” 

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“Yes, yes he does. I deserve that much, after everything. Alex, why aren’t you talking?” 

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“Because I have no idea who you are,” Alex blurts, and immediately regrets it. From the looks on both of their faces, that was not the right answer. 

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“ _What _?” she hisses, at the same time as Andy groans. Puts his head in his hands and trudges off out of Alex’s field of view. Alex doesn’t look to see where he’s gone. He’s a bit more preoccupied with the woman whose eyes are stabbing him with imagined daggers.__

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“Listen, you guys are making, uh, great points and all, but I have no idea what any of it means. Honestly. I’m just kind of here, and I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know how you know Andy, but… uh…” Alex has, remarkably, run out of words, so he ends with a vague shrug to indicate exactly how clueless he is in this situation. Maybe then, she’ll take a hint and leave him alone. And not slap him again. 

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“Andy, is it?” Adrianna swings back around on Andy, who looks like he’s trying very hard to become one of the shadows in the corner. “That’s what you’re calling yourself now, hm? Is this… real?” 

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He makes a noncommittal sound and starts trying even harder to phase into the darkness. 

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“Right. Great,” she says through gritted teeth. “So, _Alex _.”__

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“Yea-huh.” 

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“What, exactly, _do _you know?”__

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“Uhm.” Alex fervently searches his brain for whatever information will appease her and comes up blank. He’s starting to think Andy had the right idea. “I know you’re really scary and pissed off at me, and that you don’t like Andy, but you definitely know him, and I know that you think Andy wasn’t always called Andy, and apparently you weren’t always called Adrianna, but now you both are, so… childhood friends from the same town?” His voice has hit a new octave by the end, but that’s the least of his concerns. 

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Adrianna sighs, and it is quite possibly the longest and heaviest sigh Alex has heard from anyone other than Andy on a particularly bad study day. She closes her eyes briefly and takes a few deep breathes, before opening them again and giving Alex a weary stare that he knows all too well. 

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“Fine. Fine, you win. I’ll leave you alone, as it is obvious that you are not able to have the one conversation I really need to have. The one I didn’t even know I needed until I saw you. Isn’t life funny?” The look on her face does not, in fact, seem to indicate that life is anywhere approaching funny. It is instead showing that life is very, very cruel sometimes, in weird and confusing ways. 

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“Sorry,” Alex offers, but she waves it off. 

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“I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have slapped you… Although I will admit it, it did feel very satisfying. But it was wrong, considering the state you’re in.” 

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“The state I’m in?” Alex asks, but this time, he’s flat-out ignored as Adrianna turns to Andy, who seems to have partially succeeded at his goal. Lucky guy. 

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“You and I aren’t done. I hope you know that. But I’m really looking forward to some painkillers and a lie-down right about now, so we’ll continue this another time. _Andy _.” Andy doesn’t make any attempt at a response, simply making a gesture that could be interpreted as a nod if you looked at it from just the right angle.__

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With that, Adrianna sweeps from the room again, eyes like flickering embers lingering in Alex’s mind long after she’s gone. Andy doesn’t seem to be coming out of his dark pit of solitude anytime soon, so might as well consider this meeting a bust. Hurray for meaningless, terrifying distractions from studying. 

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Alex abruptly remembers Professor Mayhill, who has been watching this whole affair unfold the entire time. He glances over at her, only to find her looking back at him with a slight smile playing across her face. Their eyes meet, and she winks at him, as if they’re both in on some great secret. 

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When she speaks, it’s in a tone that conveys barely restrained mirth. “Well, she seems like a lovely gal, don’t you think?”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo, well, this was fun to write! Hope it was fun to read! Catch you all on the flip-flop, cool kids.


	16. This Should Be Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew sorts out his feelings, and Professor Mayhill speaks truth.

Andrew can’t believe this is happening. First Alex, and now her. He should have known continuing to hang around Alex would only bring more trouble into his life. The boy is a magnet for it, in any lifetime. 

Although, this whole affair hasn’t been a complete waste of his time and limited sanity. He’s finally got his answer: Alex really doesn’t remember anything. Or, at least, not enough to put the pieces together. 

But one would think he would recognize her of all people. Personally, Andrew doubts Alex has _any _of the bits of the complex jigsaw puzzle that is being assembled before their eyes. Which means he didn’t completely mess up the other day when he asked. Alex’s reaction was solely because he had no idea what Andrew was talking about.__

__Which is good. Which is great, it’s just great. Just… Wonderful._ _

__Only, that leaves him alone again. Once more the man leading a literal double life, without anyone around who can understand what it means to be in his mind. What it feels like to be responsible for actions he never chose to commit – not this him, anyway.__

__Except for her. She knows. She probably even understands, just a little bit. If only they hadn’t just a row, he might be tempted to run after her, ask her what this means, what this could mean. If this is just a chance encounter never to be repeated, or if. If maybe they can form their very own unlikely bond, like he and Alex have somehow managed to do._ _

_He is so lonely._

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___“I’m going to go back to studying,” Alex blurts, then looks sheepish, “Sorry, Andy. This was, uhm, interesting for sure. Thanks?” It lilts up into a question. Andrew understands._ _ _

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___He nods in acceptance, not really feeling fit for words at the moment. Alex nods back, shifting from foot to foot as if thinking something over. Finally, he seems to make up his mind and slips out the door without another word. Andrew watches him go, heart mysteriously aching at the sight. He should feel fine. That whole situation could have gone much worse. In comparison to all the nightmare scenarios that had played out in his mind, he got off lucky. They both did. Not to mention, the thing that has been bugging him for days has been resolved, all neat and tidy. He should be fine._ _ _

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___It’s just, the thing that has been bugging him for years hasn’t been solved. Andrew is starting to think it might never be._ _ _

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___“You should go after her.”_ _ _

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___Andrew looks up from the frankly fascinating paint job on the wall to see Professor Mayhill contemplating him. She is surprisingly calm, considering the circumstance. Actually, now that Andrew thinks about it, she’s seemed perfectly calm and content throughout this entire situation. A thought creeps into his mind, but he shoves it aside. Coincidental meetings are one thing – conspiracies are another. He’s not going down that rabbit hole._ _ _

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___“Why?” he asks._ _ _

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___“Because.” She glances pointedly between him and the doorway. “You’re more alike than you realize.”_ _ _

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___“Respectfully, I think I know in exactly which ways we’re alike.”_ _ _

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___“I’d be tempted to agree with that, Mr. Ron, if it wasn’t for the fact that you argued over almost exactly nothing just now.” She raises a salt-and-pepper eyebrow at him, as if daring him to challenge her. He does not dare. He may be a foolish man, but he has no intention of becoming a dead one anytime soon. Not again._ _ _

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___He does say, “So, what? We kiss and make up? That’s not very likely. I-” He stops himself from saying something truly idiotic, just in time. For a moment, he thinks he’s got away with it, but one glance confirms how wrong he is. Thankfully, Mayhill doesn’t press. She just levels a knowing look at him, one that couldn’t possibly be as knowing as it appears. It just couldn’t._ _ _

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___No one could be that unlucky, could they?_ _ _

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___Then again, the universe does like to play its tricks on him._ _ _

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___Mayhill speaks, putting a sudden halt to his rushing thoughts, “Go after her. For my sake, as much as your own. I can’t bear to see all this, ehm, what’s the word you kids use? Angst?” She flaps a hand at him. “Yes, yes, angst. I can’t bear to see all of this angst tossed about by you. It’s honestly getting to be a little much.”_ _ _

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___“Uh, right. Sorry, ma’am.”_ _ _

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___“Save your apologies for the people who truly need to hear them.” She smiles at him, then, and something tugs within his heart. Something small and fragile. Something that feels dangerously like hope. Andrew doesn’t know where it even came from, but it’s there now. Flickering away._ _ _

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___“I’m going to go now,” he says, before he decides to say anything else. Particularly any of the dangerously reckless things that hovers on the tip of his tongue like curse words in the mouth of an excited eight-year-old. He hastily emerges from his shadowy hideout and heads for the door, only briefly pausing to flash a weak smile to Mayhill. “Thank you.”_ _ _

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___She shrugs, a smooth, confident movement. “Anytime.”_ _ _

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___With that, Andrew disappears out the door, following in the footsteps of Angelica Schuyler. Perhaps the only other person who can possibly understand how he feels, understand the burden that has crippled his ability to live again._ _ _

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Then again, perhaps not the _only _one.__

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, I know, but don't worry. We're leading up to some pretty exciting events, folks. There's much more to come... Next week.


	17. Be Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex just needs to keep his head above the waves. He should be able to do that much. Right?

Alex hunches over his desk, trying to channel all of his confusion and anxiety into the stupid words he’s scribbling into the stupid paper for his stupid essay. He knows he has a laptop. He also knows he should probably use it. But his eyes had started to blur from staring at the pixels for too long, and his shoulders had begun to cramp, and the only part of his brain that still seemed to be functioning at that point had decided that noting down all his thoughts as they came to him on something physical would be an excellent alternate option. 

Now, his wrist is nearly frozen over by painful cramps, and his mind is stuck in the spinning engine room at the center of his logical train of thought, which has long since been derailed. How should he combat the notion that clean energy could cost more money in the short-term than it might be worth in the long-term? He’s read over countless studies, but their words and numbers mix in his head, becoming an indecipherable soup of ideas. He might as well make up some random statistics and call his paper good enough. Except he can’t. He’s Alexander Hernández. He’s not going to half-ass a paper. He is intent on rocking their worlds, all of them, and to do that, he needs to be the best. 

The best don’t half-ass it. The best don’t quit. The best don't even consider quitting an option. 

Which means, sometimes, the best don’t sleep. Which means, this time, Alex’s head needs to stop bobbing up and down with drowsiness and get in the game. He needs to get this paper done, and he needs to get it done soon. How soon is “soon” again? He can’t quite remember, and his phone is gone. He doesn’t know where. Maybe he should take a break – get some air, water, food. 

No, he can’t. If he does, he’ll feel too tempted to go to sleep, and then he won’t get his paper done, and then what is he going to do? Show up at the classroom tomorrow (?) morning with nothing to show except a good night’s rest and some kindergartener’s scrawl in a notebook? No, he needs to do this. He _needs _to do this.__

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The words fall limply from his hastily scratching pencil to the page, with no real impact or pizazz. He wants to imbue them with life just as much as he wants to force sense into his brain, but neither is going to be happening anytime soon. All he can do now is hope to create such a metric ton of words that the professor will never notice if his word choices are uninspired or if his phrasing is blandly passive. He needs to make it all make sense, but if that can’t happen, he’ll make so much of it that it won’t need to make sense. It’ll just be. 

That’s fine, right? That’s how the best do it. Right? 

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There’s a noise in his periphery, but he ignores it. He focuses on the page, on the swimming black and white sea in front of him. He dives head-first into the waves of nonsense, coming up for air only once to briefly consider what he’s actually writing. What had started as a piece on graphs and their role in skewed media coverage of politics had somehow become a rat’s race between all the competing threads of thought in his mind. He can see them, tracing black outlines through the ocean below him. Reaching up to him like twining tentacles, ready to wrap him in an embrace that will pull him under by the sheer weight of the bullshit he is producing. He needs to keep swimming, just keep swimming. So, he does. He finds the next thread, and the next, and the next. Sees their curving, dark forms and twists them to his own uses. 

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His old paper is gone. His old sense is gone. All that’s left is him and the page, in this fuzzy moment. And he’ll be damned if he lets _it _win.__

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“Alex?” 

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The word is far off, as if called from the shore that was long forgotten in his chase for the deep-sea creature that beckons from a sea of blue and red histogram charts. He cannot heed this new siren song, for there is another, far sweeter one already chiming in his head. Tempting him with visions of a bright and bold future, one without any uncertainty or doubt of his intelligence. He can make it. He just needs to swim a little farther out to sea. Just go a little further. Just write a little longer. 

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“Alex.” 

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He ignores the call once again, although his mind is splitting in two at its cry. Half of him whispers, _friend _, and goes to turn around. The other half of him whispers, ** _not important enough ___** _ _, and turns away. He has a far more dire mission at hand.____

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“Alex!” 

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The voice’s insistence is only sparking more anxiety and annoyance in him. What does this voice know? Why does this voice think it’s so special that it can interrupt his very important work? He has so much work to do, and he cannot, will not, be dragged away from it by this- 

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There is a single, lucid moment in which both halves of his mind whisper, _ghost _. A single, horrifying second where he doesn’t understand his own thoughts. A wave of fog rolls over the ocean of his mind, the turbulent sea of his thoughts, and everything becomes hazy and grey. All his curling tendrils of genius vanish from view, and he is left floundering.__

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“What is it?” he thinks he snaps to the person that he doesn’t understand. They are leaning over him, a worried expression on their – his – face, and they keep snapping their – his – fingers in front of Alex’s face. Alex only blinks for a long moment. Eventually, he snatches the fingers out of the air, hoping at least to make the man stop for a time. Man, yes, he is a man. Or- no. Boy? Friend? The specifics are unclear, as is everything beyond Alex’s immediate field of view, which is mostly taken up by the man’s face. He certainly looks awfully concerned about something. 

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Maybe Alex should take a moment to poke his head above the waves and breathe, after all. Yeah, just a second. That couldn’t hurt, right? That’s what the best would do. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.

___________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! This one was fun to write, what with all the funky similes and fabulicious foreshadowing, so I hope it was also fun to read! Till next week.


	18. The Balance Shifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew just needs a friend who understands the truth about him. Literally anyone. He'd even take Charles Lee at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations, America! We fucking did it.

“Wait!” It’s taken far longer than Andrew had expected to track Angelica back down. In fairness, he had spent quite a bit of time in a state of mental anguish, and she is a rather fast walker. He’s had to race across practically half the campus, asking students all the way if they’d seen her. It’s a good thing she’s a memorable woman. 

“Wait! Angelica, wait!” The name slips out on reflex, and Andrew almost feels sorry for it, except it gets her to grind to a screeching halt. 

“I thought that was your thing.” 

“I- Angelica, I’m-” 

“That’s not my name.” 

“Of course. My apologies, Adrianna.” He draws a hesitant step closer. Her back is still turned to him, and a good yard separates the two of them. 

“What do you want?” Her voice is flat. A stark contrast to the angry fire from before. 

“Adrianna, I would like to apologize for what happened earlier. I shouldn’t have acted like such an ass-” 

“Which time?” 

Andrew grits his teeth. It’s what he deserves, he knows, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “Both. All of them. I know I was a horrible man then, and I continue to be a flawed man now, but-” 

“But what, Burr?” She rounds on him, and he flinches backward. Although her voice is cold, her eyes are like twin suns, radiating fire and destruction outward with whipping solar winds. “What excuse have you cooked up this time? What pretty little lie have you decided to feed to me now that you’ve had the time to test it out on yourself first?” 

“I-” All his carefully crafted words die on his tongue. He was a fool to have thought that she would ever want to know him in this life. An absolute fool. He deserves her friendship as much as he deserves Alex’s – and yet, he desperately wants it all the same. “I’m just sorry.” 

“Oh, are you now. Then why are you hanging around _him _like a loose piece of lint stuck to his pompous little jacket?”__

__“He’s given me a second chance.”_ _

__“He hasn’t given you jack shit, Burr, you slimy weasel. He’s not himself, and so you’re taking advantage of him, just like you always do. You have always searched out those willing to support the façade you put up, and you always will.”_ _

__“Angelica, could you just please hear me out?”_ _

__“No. I’m done. I think you said all you meant to say in that classroom, and if this is your last ditch effort to undo those words, then you should get a better speech-writer.” She turns on her heel and makes to disappear into the crowds. Perhaps never to be seen again._ _

__He should let her go. It’s clear that’s what she wants, and she’s right. His only plan at the moment feels a bit too much like emotional manipulation, even if it is just ‘tell the truth.’_ _

__“Adrianna.”_ _

__She doesn’t stop this time, just keeps walking, her back rigid and her shoulders set._ _

__“Adrianna, please. I know I haven’t changed as much as I should have, and there is no reason to trust this me more than the last me.”_ _

__She slows. He stays where he is, nearly shouting across the square they’ve found themselves in. “I want to make it right. All of it. And I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I am not asking for it. All I am asking is for you to listen.”_ _

__She comes to a stop, two yards away from him. He does not dare to edge any closer this time, just keeps speaking over that yawning chasm in the hopes that some of his words make it across._ _

__“Alex is my friend because I, I didn’t figure out the truth in time, and now, I don’t think I could stand to lose the only person on this planet that cares about me.” Andrew feels himself tripping over the words as they pour out, a dam broken and unstoppable. He had not meant to go for the pity angle, it’s probably the worst way to go, but his mouth seems to have other ideas. “And for better or worse, he’s not like you or me. He remembers nothing. But you remember. You remember what I did, and that might just be the best and worst thing that has happened this whole year.” He swallows, trying to dislodge the lump obstructing his ragged breathing, but it’s not going anywhere anytime soon._ _

__“I finally have the chance to apologize to someone, anyone, for what I’ve done. Not be forgiven. Simply… admit I made a mistake and own up to it. Because I don’t want to be that person again. That snake who never meant the words he spat. So, understand that when I apologize to you, I mean it. I am sorry for all I have done. I am just… I’m truly sorry.”_ _

__Adrianna doesn’t move, doesn’t turn, simply stands there as Andrew breaks apart. He keeps himself from crying, barely, but he knows his back is hunched and his face is red and every stitch of his self is tearing at the seams. He is as crumpled and sagging as he was during that cruel, cold end to his life. He wants so badly to be forgiven for Burr’s mistakes, but there’s no chance that will happen, in this lifetime or any other. All he has left is a chance at his apology being accepted by the one woman who knows anything about him at all._ _

She remains silent, and his heart would currently be frozen with bated anticipation, if it wasn’t for the fact it shriveled and died a good minute or two ago when she used _his _name. Still, he doesn’t dare breathe as the silence stretches like an enveloping duvet, and the world around him blurs and focuses down to Adrianna/Angelica – whichever she is now. Much like he is Andrew/Burr. Neither able to fully run from their previous life’s mistakes, yet equally unable to fully own them either. Maybe that’s why it feels so important to confess to her. So that he can finally claim ownership over the haunting nightmares and ringing gunshots that cast a too-long shadow over his life. So that he can hold them and let them go on his own terms, rather than on the terms of the man who had committed them.__

 _ _“I didn’t catch it.” The words are spoken into the silence gently enough that they don’t manage to break it, but they ring loud and clear in his ears all the same. Their meaning, however, is slightly more opaque._ _

___“What?”_ _ _

___“Your new name – I didn’t catch it. Therefore, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Adrianna Johnson.” She faces him, eyes alight in a new, perhaps even more frightening way, and takes quick, easy strides to meet him face-to-face in the middle of the square. Emotions crash behind those black-brown irises, as if there is an ocean within them, its waves igniting like glorious, golden fire in the light of the midday sun. She sticks a hand out to him, and he feels as though he has always been caught in that sea, drowning… only now, there is a lifeboat finally offering him relief._ _ _

___“Andrew Ron,” he introduces, years of proper manners being trained into him the only thing that spurs him to take her hand in this moment of pure, unadulterated shock._ _ _

___“Can’t say it’s a pleasure to meet you, but I can say it’s made my day a whole lot more… interesting.” Like her words, her face holds no warmth, no friendliness, but it doesn’t matter. It’s enough for him, more than enough, really. More than he ever expected._ _ _

___He’s been given a second chance, and he is not going to ruin it this time._ _ _

___“Same here,” he responds, trying to adopt the same professional coolness in his own tone – he always was good at it, back in the day. He thinks he manages fairly well, although a slight upturn to his lips betrays him in the end._ _ _

___“Well, I have to go. Good luck with your self-improvement. And if you really are trying to shape yourself into a better man, then I will ask this of you: Take care of him.” She meets his eyes, and he nods. Satisfied, she turns and walks away, pausing only briefly to call back: “And if you do kill him again, at least call me so I can be there.”_ _ _

___Just like that, she is lost to the crowd. Andrew allows his lips to quirk into a complete smile. “I will,” he tells no one, and yet, finally, maybe, someone._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter incoming tonight! Woot woot for meeting deadlines despite also doing NaNoWriMo this year! It's been fun.


	19. You Have No Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a problem, and his friends are not helping. As usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy, second verse, same as the first!

Alex is hunched over his desk, his eyes terrifyingly blank as they stare at nothing, and Jason has absolutely no idea what to do. He swears, he found him like this. Mostly like this. As soon as Jason had entered the room, he’d noticed something was up. His roommate was acting even odder than usual, his hands practically glued to his notebook, and when Jason had asked him if he’d eaten, he hadn’t even responded. Which was weird, sure, but not out of the ordinary for midterms. Jason knows the feeling. 

It’s just, every other time he asked his roommate a question in the thirty minutes that followed, he was unresponsive. Basically comatose. So, Jason decided, like the noble roommate he is, to snap him out of it and get him to take a break. And then, the dude had been acting grumpy and annoyed, which sure, fine, he gets that, but now it’s like he’s having a panic attack, and Jason has the sinking suspicion that somehow he’s responsible for it, and he wishes he could make it better, but he has no idea what he did, what he said, to trigger this, and even less of a clue how to deal with it. 

All he can do is gently hold Alex up by the arms and whisper calming words to him, hoping that at least some of them will penetrate through this shell Alex has wrapped himself inside. Jason could handle the crying fit just fine, but this, this is different. Alex isn’t hyperventilating, he’s not sobbing, he’s just staring, completely and utterly zoned out. Gone from the world. It’s a little scary, and Jason is starting to wonder if he should call someone for help. Yeah, he should do that. Who was that nerd that said he was friends with Alex? The one with the dark eyes that he met briefly at the party, who introduced himself as something with an ‘A’. He should call that person. 

But Alex’s phone is nowhere in sight, and Jason doesn’t really know what contact he’s looking for, anyway, so Plan B. Call up one of his own friends and see if they have any tips for dissociative episodes or whatever this might be. Jason rummages around in his pockets, keeping a light hand on Alex’s shoulder all the while, hoping it’ll at least ground him in this present moment. Finally, he snags his phone and hits one of the speed-dial options, one hand resting on Alex while the other taps out an impatient beat on his pantleg. 

“Hello?” Thank god. It’s a relief to hear Harry’s voice when the room he’s in has been so silent for the past few… minutes? Hours? Eternity? 

“Yeah, hey, it’s Jason. I got a bit of a situation over here.” 

“Man, it’s the middle of the day. I have exams to prep for.” 

“They can wait. My roommate is acting really strange. I don’t know, he’s just not doing so hot. Kind of blankly staring at the ground a bunch. I was wondering if maybe you have any tips or…?” 

“Jason, just because I can handle you doesn’t mean I'm good with people. Especially people I’ve barely met,” Harry counters. 

“Yeah, but you saw him at the party, right? You said he was acting weird, right?” 

“I said he was drunk. Everyone acts weird when they're drunk.” 

“I don’t know, I’m just at a loss here, dude. He’s just… not responsive, and I don’t know if I should call anyone or, or what.” Jason lowers his voice in case Alex can still hear him, even though he still isn’t showing any signs of awareness. (Jason really wishes he would.) “He’s a good kid, Harry. I don’t want him to be in a bad place and be alone through it.” 

“All right, all right, Big Ol’ Hero Man. I got your solution right here: Either find someone familiar with his history of mental illness or at least with his patterns of behavior, or phone up Adrianna. At least she is a psychology major. And don’t panic. Got it?” 

“Yeah, got it. Thanks, Harry.” 

“No worries. I basically just made it someone else’s problem, but you’re welcome anyway, I suppose.” 

Jason pauses. A snag has already cropped up in his current action plan. “Hey, Harry?” 

“Yes, Jason?” He’s doing a great job of making himself sound absolutely put-upon. Typical Harry. 

“What if I don’t know who’s close to him?” 

“Are you serious, man? You’ve been roommates for, what? Over two months?” 

“Yeah.” 

“And you’re telling me you don’t know a single friend's name?” 

“One of their names begins with ‘A’, I think.” 

“Half the kids in this generation have an ‘A’ name, dumbass.” Jason may not be able to see it, but he just knows Harry is rolling his eyes right now. He frowns in response, knowing that Harry won’t be able to see his expression either, but that he'll know. 

“Thanks for the help. I’ll figure the rest out on my own, I guess.” 

“Yeah, you do that. And hey, call me if anything else interesting happens.” 

“Really?” 

“No. I have actual work to do, bud.” 

The call ends, and Jason stares at the screen in annoyance. His friends can be infuriating sometimes, and this time, Harry wasn’t even acting helpful on top of that irritating behavior. Practically the resident therapist for the group, Jason was really counting on his advice, but it seems the best he could do was give him the pro tip of ‘phone a friend.’ Which he would if he could. 

For lack of anyone on Alex's side of things to call, Jason goes with Harry's Plan B, wondering distantly what his cellphone bill is going to look like after tonight. All the while, he continues murmuring soft encouragements to a still and silent Alex in the vain hope that it’s somehow helping. 

(He’s starting to get seriously concerned about the guy.) 

“Hey, Adrianna?” 

The sigh on the other end of the line takes irritated to the next level, but Jason forges ahead regardless. “Do you know any good ways of helping someone during a dissociative episode or whatever? My roommate’s kind of bugging.” 

“Describe his symptoms to me.” Adrianna’s voice is much cooler and more business-like than Jason is used to, and he blinks, momentarily stunned into silence. Apparently, that silence lasts a little longer than she wants, because she follows it up with a snapped, “Describe his symptoms, Jason O’Malley.” 

“Geez, okay, no need for last names, Mom.” Jason inspects Alex’s face, looking for something, anything, other than the slack-jawed nothingness he’s getting now. “He’s just… not there, you know.” 

“No, I do not know, Jason. _Describe it to me _.” She sounds properly pissed off, and Jason bristles at her tone.__

__“Fine. He’s, like, comatose. Very still and silent. Doesn’t look like he’s taking in anything from his surroundings, and he doesn’t respond to any kind of stimuli or anything that I’ve tried. He’s just, super out of it.”_ _

__“Right. Right, okay. Can you describe your roommate for me?”_ _

__“I just did.”_ _

__“I want you to describe the man, not the malady, simpleton.”_ _

__He goes to make a joke about the Old English-ish phrasing but abruptly decides that today is not the day he is forced off his mortal coil or whatever. “I told you about him, remember? Medium build, pretty young-looking, nice eyes.” Shit, he wishes he could take back the last part. “Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin.”_ _

__“Ah.” She clicks her tongue, and for a moment, silence reigns. After a few more of these moments, he starts to think the call’s ended._ _

__“Adrianna?”_ _

__“Still here, sorry. So, his name is Alex, right?”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah, Alex Hernandez, I think.”_ _

__“Great. Just great.” She doesn’t make it sound like it is at all great. “And why did you call me for this? Just to play a practical joke on me or…?”_ _

__Jason scoffs. “I would never.”_ _

__“You would.”_ _

__“Not to you, you’d kill me. No, Harry already blew me off, and I just, I wanted to help, and this is serious, and you’re about the most serious person I know. Plus, you've got experience, so.” Jason shrugs, then realizes it’s not exactly going to translate over the phone. He makes the most shrug-like noise he can. It comes out as a whine, more than anything. “Help?”_ _

__“I’m coming over, just… try not to say or do anything too stupid until I do, okay?”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Jason agrees quickly. Man, he loves his friends. “See you soon.”_ _

__“See you in ten, Jason.”_ _

__The line does go dead this time, and Jason breathes out a long sigh of relief mixed in with apprehension. He’s just gotta not screw this up in the time it takes for Adrianna to arrive. He can do that. Of course he can._ _

__His arm is starting to ache, so he moves his hands down to grasp Alex’s hands, holding them in a loose grip and tracing small swirls into the skin. He doesn’t know if it’s more meant as a soothing gesture for Alex or for him. Probably him, because Alex is gonna be just fine. Jason’s got Adrianna now, and she’s going to help, and together they’re going to make sure Alex is okay._ _

__There’s literally no need to worry. No need at all._ _

__(It doesn’t stop him from doing it, of course, for the entire eleven minutes he has to wait in antsy agony before there is a knock at the door.)_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, adventure, intrigue, and (mostly) anxiety~ Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you all next week! Stay safe, friendaloons!


	20. Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playtime is over. Adrianna is here, and she's going to make everything better. Right?

The door swings open to the cheery sight of a fidgety Jason and a stone-faced Alex. Adrianna moves quickly past Jason into the room, ignoring the way his mouth drops open to say something. Without a word, she stoops in front of Alex and begins doing the basic checks – lifting his eyelids all the way up to check pupil dilation (he’s not dead), finding his pulse (beating like a rabbit despite his frozen state), lightly slapping him to see his reaction (none at all). 

She frowns. 

“Adrianna.” Jason clears his throat. Adrianna pointedly ignores him, moving on to Alex’s open notebook and other belongings to see what he was working on. 

“Adrianna,” Jason repeats. Adrianna flips through a paper on something or other – it’s not history, and that’s all she cares about. She checks his search history on his computer as well, just in case. Still nothing. 

“Adrianna.” Jason sounds insistent and annoyed. Adrianna finally turns on her heel, her eyes sweeping over the room, searching for any trace of a significant tome or textbook that could be responsible for Alex’s state. From personal experience, she knows what a reincarnation episode looks like. This one isn’t particularly bad, at least not compared to the others she’s seen. She still remembers the time she’d had to sit through Lafayette’s remembrance. That had not been pleasant by any sense of the word. And, of course, there was her own. 

No, it’s not the episode she’s worried about, it’s why it’s happening. There is no obvious reason for him to be remembering at all. Which means she’s going to have to get a second opinion. 

“Andrew, stop lurking in the hallway and get in here.” 

Andrew pokes his head in. Jason squints. 

“Aren’t you the guy from the party?” 

“Yes. Hello.” Like the little snake he is, Andrew slithers into the room, poking his head around before hesitantly turning toward Alex. The look in his eyes is crumpled and sad, but he doesn’t let it show on his face. Same old, same Burr. “I’m a friend of Alex’s.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Jason seems to have perked up a little. “I was going to call you, but I couldn’t find Alex’s phone.” 

Andrew doesn’t seem to be really hearing anything he’s saying, and he makes no move to respond. Adrianna steps in for him, keeping one eye on him as he inspects Alex’s slack face. 

“Jason, do you know how long he’s been like this for?” 

“Uh.” Jason scratches the back of his head, suddenly all awkward and nervous again. Adrianna rarely gets to see him like this, so vulnerable and unguarded. With him, it’s all flexing muscles and jokes. She’s a bit surprised he’s acting this way, if she’s being honest with herself – and she always is. “Maybe about an hour? I don’t know, I lost track of time.” 

She shakes her head, dismissing his implicit apology. “Don’t worry about it. What did he seem like before he started acting like this? Was he anxious about anything? Had he-” It’s a risk to ask the next question, but to most people, it represents nothing but an odd train of random thought. “- read anything about history lately? Or seen anything that might have been historical in nature?” 

Andrew flashes her a look before going back to his analysis. She ignores him, although she doesn’t ignore the way his hands are shaking. 

“Not that I know of. He was just…” Jason seems to think it over, his face scrunching in thought. “I mean, I guess he was being a bit obsessive over his work. He was ignoring me when I first came in, and when I did get his attention, he was just acting… I don’t know. He was annoyed and all that, but then he was just… boom. Dead to the world.” 

Adrianna nods and, after momentary consideration, puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. Poor guy looks like he needs a break. He’s obviously not equipped to deal with the messy parts of reincarnation. Of course he’s not. Why would he be? 

“Adrianna,” Andrew hisses, and Adrianna gives Jason a quick flash of a smile before bending down beside him. “I don’t know for certain, but if I had to guess…” 

“I would be inclined to agree. But, Andrew.” She shares a pointed look with him. They both know how odd this is. Then again… Oh, she is truly an idiot. 

“Earlier,” she voices. 

Andrew buries his head in his hands in response. 

“What? What is it?” Jason asks, clueless. Adrianna stands once more and strides over to him, carefully facing him toward the door and nudging him in its direction. 

“Don’t worry, Jason, we have this covered.” 

“No, what’s going on? What’s up with Alex?” 

“We know what’s happened, we just need to wait it out.” 

“Just tell me, then.” 

“It’s personal. I can’t speak for him. Besides, you should get some sleep.” 

“He’s my roommate! And I sleep here. What am I, what are you-” Jason isn’t budging, petulantly refusing to oblige with Adrianna’s not-so-subtle suggestions. She’s almost grateful when Andrew steps in. Almost. 

“Jason, thank you so much for all you’ve done. Why don’t you stay with a friend, just for the night, and we’ll make sure Alex is comfortable here. He can tell you all about it in the morning, but for right now, all he needs is rest and relaxation. All right?” 

Jason looks from Andrew’s face to Adrianna’s to Alex’s. His shoulders slump. 

“Fine. But you gotta make sure he’s okay, okay?” 

“Of course. Have a good night.” 

“Good night.” Jason doesn’t look happy about it, but he finally moves to leave. Adrianna offers him a gentle smile as he goes in lieu of an apology, and he gives her a short wave goodbye. As soon as he’s gone, she swings the door closed behind him and turns on Andrew. 

“What was that?” she asks him, hands on her hips. 

“What was what?” he snaps back. 

“’He’ll tell you all about it in the morning’. No, he won’t. None of us do.” 

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I had to say something to get him to leave.” 

She glares. He glares back. 

He blinks first. 

“We’re wasting time. What do we do next?” 

She cocks her head at him. “We give it time.” 

He stares at her as if she’s crazy. “’Give it time’?” 

“Have you never seen this happen before?” 

“It happened _to _me.”__

__She rolls her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. I’m asking if you’ve ever had to comfort someone who went through this before.”_ _

__He shifts, his eyes flicking to the floor. “No.”_ _

__“Exactly. I have, and time helps more than any other paltry comforts we could possibly provide.”_ _

__Andrew settles on the edge of one of the dorm beds, his spine rigid, ever playing the part of the stiff old man. It’s haunting, seeing him so young and yet so, so old. It reminds Adrianna of everything she’d left behind and everything she misses being. She can’t imagine how she of all people triggered Alex’s collapse when he’s been hanging around his quite obvious murderer for months, but the universe does love its humorous little pranks._ _

__“How shall we spend it?”_ _

__The fuzzy shell of memories that had begun to envelop her in turn is broken as soon as Andrew speaks. “What?”_ _

__“We’re not exactly going to leave him alone through this. Are we just going to sit here and stare at H- at him, or?” His eyes dart to her, as if checking to see if she caught the slip. She did, although she shows no sign of it on her face. She might not like the man much, but she’s not a cruel woman._ _

__“No."_ _

__“So?”_ _

__“Andrew, have you ever played a game called Truth or Dare before?”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. What's going to happen to Alex? How will our lovely protagonists deal with the fallout of the events of this night? What secrets will be revealed in Truth or Dare?
> 
> I may know the answers, but I may not share them. Tis the rules of the game, my friends. ;)
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed, and I'll catch all of you fabulous friendaloons next week! Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay radiant!


	21. What Happens Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew tries to actually be honest with someone for once. It blows up in his face, slightly, but not in the ways he might have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitting, that the 21st chapter goes up on the 21st of November. Didn't even mean to do that, but here we are. Having a good time, having a ball!

Andrew takes a moment to assess whether this is, truly, his life now. Once the moment is over, he lets out a sigh. It’s a good idea. A silly one – an absolutely ridiculous one, that two recently reunited reincarnated beings shouldn’t allow themselves to indulge in – but a good one. 

In lieu of an answer to her question, he asks, “Truth or dare, Adrianna?” 

“Truth.” 

Fantastic. Now he has to think of a question. A thousand questions come to the surface of his mind on an everyday basis, throwing doubt upon the world and the people around him, but now that he actually has a chance to ask someone, nothing. There’s an empty hole where the quizzical part of his brain used to reside. It’s just as well, too, because if he asked Adrianna anything serious right now, he thinks her gaze might disintegrate his spine. She knows that he knows some of her weak spots, and she is giving him a very good incentive not to hit them. 

“Do you have any family?” he finally decides on. She snorts in derision, as if his question was a laughable copout and not a reasonable move in the direction of self-preservation. 

“Parents and grandparents. A couple of cousins. No siblings.” _No sisters _, goes unsaid. “Truth or dare, Andrew?”__

__“Truth.”_ _

__“When did you and Alex meet?”_ _

__Andrew sucks in a breath, the memories of that night coming to his mind easily and yet with a certain foggy sense of otherworldly nostalgia. It feels like a lifetime ago. Like a different person had bumped into Alex on that street, someone with simultaneously less and more experience with this world. People do say college changes you._ _

__“Right before the semester, we ran into each other on the street. Literally. He wanted a fri- an ally, he said, for college, and I… I thought he was interesting.” The words sputter from Andrew’s mouth like a faulty sink spouting water in guttering starts-and-stops._ _

__“Huh.” She makes no move to comment. He takes it as an encouraging sign. This woman has not been one to hold back her true feelings, in any lifetime._ _

__“Truth or dare, Adrianna?”_ _

__“Truth.”_ _

__He huffs a laugh. “I think this is going to become a running theme.”_ _

She gestures to the messy dorm around them, one neither of them should really be in to begin with, as if to say, _What would we do for a dare? _It’s a fair point. Andrew doesn’t even think either of them are the type of people who’d go for that sort of thing, unless the dare was to challenge an archenemy to a duel.__

 _ _(On second thought, that might just be him.)_ _

___Hastily scurrying away from those thoughts, Andrew moves onto the difficult decision ahead of him. He eventually settles on a question he thinks might hold a little more weight for her. It’s odd, but he feels like they’re slowly becoming more comfortable around each other as the conversation progresses – he hopes that’s the case, anyway – so maybe a slightly more meaningful question and answer would be welcome._ _ _

___“When did you remember?”_ _ _

___She doesn’t wince, per say. She’s far too controlled for that. But her face does tighten for a millisecond. That was the wrong thing to ask, that was the wrong thing to ask, that was- “Someone said something that was… familiar. All of it came back in a flash. You know the drill.” She looks uncomfortable in her posture. He can relate._ _ _

___“Of course,” he says, and promptly shuts himself up._ _ _

___“Truth or dare?”_ _ _

___“Truth.”_ _ _

___Her eyes move to watching Alex as she asks, “What is your life like?”_ _ _

___“What do you mean?”_ _ _

___“What is your life like, now? You were once a stuck-up rich kid orphan who feared judgment like the plague and yet encouraged it with every word he spoke. What’s your story now?” Her eyes burn twin holes into Alex’s skull, but her attention is obviously directed right through him, right through his heart, right into his soul._ _ _

“I-” Andrew pauses, allowing himself to fully consider the question. The truth is, he doesn’t know. What is he like, in this life? So little of Andrew as an individual even exists, every action he takes or word he speaks overshadowed by the person he is trying not to become again. Deciding things like his career path, his hobbies, and even his music taste has mostly been a game of elimination up to this point; decisions made solely on what he knows he doesn’t like. There isn’t much about himself that he can genuinely call his. He is a person sculpted from a series of sharp, disgusted turns away from what he could become. At the end of the day, he is nothing but a reflection of his past self, murky puddles of rain bouncing back the appearance of the person he runs from in his dreams, the person he tries so hard not to be. The water distorts the image until it is so far from the original that it loops right back around to being _him _all the same.__

 _ _So, it’s back to the million-dollar question. Who is he? What is he like, now?_ _

___“I’m- I- I don’t know.” He raises his eyes, begging her to meet them. Equally, he hopes she will look away from him and never look back. When she does finally meet his eye, her gaze is full of ferocious intensity and an all-too-knowing understanding as he says, “I don’t know.”_ _ _

___She nods. She says nothing. They both lapse into silence._ _ _

___“Truth or dare?” he practically whispers into it. He doesn’t know what he is hoping for – no response, a smile, a laugh, a curse, a rejection – but what he gets is another glance, this time full of confusion, and perhaps, a little compassion._ _ _

___“Truth.”_ _ _

___“Do you have a favorite hobby?” Of all the questions he could choose, the most inane and yet the most comforting._ _ _

___She knows exactly what he’s doing, but she says nothing other than an idle, “I like writing. Nonfiction, mostly. I want people to hear what I have to say to the world.” She adds, quieter, “I suppose I learned that from him.”_ _ _

___“I think you were just more similar than you realized to begin with,” he comments, trying to make it sound as casual as he can. A genuine smile verges on the tip of her lips but ultimately doesn’t unfold. It’s something._ _ _

___“Maybe,” she agrees, her eyes straying back to Alex. She looks… she looks something. Andrew is too tired, and too lost, to know what, even if he does know why._ _ _

___“Truth or dare?”_ _ _

___“Truth,” he answers without question, wondering distantly why they are continuing this charade still. Perhaps it affords their questions a sense of levity. Sincere answers played out behind the façade of a childish game._ _ _

___“What’s your middle name?”_ _ _

___He squints at her. “Why?”_ _ _

___“You have to answer. That’s the rules.” Ah, now this façade has betrayed him. Of course. That’s the way of the universe – always a betrayal on the end of every rainbow._ _ _

___“Ash.” He stares her down, daring her to make fun of it._ _ _

___“Oh.” All she does is raise an eyebrow at him, but he can feel the weight of the judgment behind the gesture. He glares._ _ _

___“What’s yours?” he prompts, feeling vengeful._ _ _

___“That’s not how this works.”_ _ _

___“Fine. Truth or dare?”_ _ _

___“Dare.”_ _ _

___His glare doubles in intensity. She looks on the edge of laughter, about to tip off into the abyss. She might very well have done so, if it hadn’t been for the sudden gasp that rattled the room. It only takes moments for Andrew and Adrianna to both realize what’s happening and for Andrew to move to Alex’s side, but those moments manage to feel like hours._ _ _

___Andrew watches as Alex’s chest heaves in and out, taking heavy, rapid breathes as if he can’t get enough oxygen into his body. When his eyes finally meet Andrew’s, his gaze is edged with panic, but what catches Andrew’s attention first is the fact that the youthful energy in their pitted depths still remains. Something inside Andrew, some hidden flame that has caught on the embers of his soul, flickers._ _ _

___“Andy? What the- I-” His eyes flick from Andrew to Adrianna behind him. Andrew doesn’t have to turn to know what the expression on her face looks like. He expects it’s much like his own look of dawning realization._ _ _

“ _What _?”__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! It's time for everyone's favorite thing: Admin! Basically, a quick update on where we are and where we're going. 
> 
> As I hopefully remembered to mention earlier, this whole fic fits with the soundtrack, with each chapter using the corresponding song's lyrics for the titles. Last chapter was the Yorktown of our story, making this chapter the real-star-of-the-show's second solo, "What Comes Next?" That's (part of) why it's a little silly, a little about what's to come, and a lot existential. As all good things should be.
> 
> I tell you this because Act 1 of this fic is about to end very soon in our collective futures. After this chapter, there are three more chapters left in Act 1, set to come out on the 5th, the 12th, and the 19th of December respectively. Due to certain gratefulness-centric celebrations, I won't be posting next weekend (I learned my lesson from Halloween, I swear), and after Act 1 concludes, I'll be taking a little hiatus for the holidays. Never fear, I shall return on January 2nd with another chapter that will definitely not be called New Year, New Perils. Nooo.
> 
> I also wanted to quickly add before I get some much needed rest that I'm really sorry for how short chapters have been recently, and for the fact that a lot of times they get posted after midnight (as is the case with this one). NaNoWriMo has been kicking my ass in the best way possible, but I'm pleased to announce that I did it! I crossed the 50,000 word line in my manuscript this Thursday. Although my novel still isn't finished after all that (there's nothing like realizing you're a quarter-of-the-way through your book when you should be halfway through), I'm hoping that moving forward, I will have more energy to put into this work now that I have that pressure somewhat out of the way.
> 
> Finally, before I leave you to whatever awaits us in the weeks to come, thank you so much to everyone who comments on this, reads this, or supports it any way. You don't know how much it means for me to be able to take this journey with you all. Even if sometimes it can be hard to work up the motivation to put out a chapter for this project, it is always worth the effort, and I am so thankful (wink, wink) for you guys and all the ways you've inspired me to keep going on here. Life Doesn't Discriminate wouldn't exist without this tremendously cool fandom, without all the awesome tropes that come from your guys' creative brains, and without you, the reader. So, truly, thank you.
> 
> Have a lovely week, friends! Remember to stay safe, stay healthy, and stay radiant!


	22. When You Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only seconds, minutes, hours before the ending of the last chapter, this was the state of the world. More accurately, his world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be back, soon you'll see! All your hearts will then belong to me~! 
> 
> Teehee, I'm back. May the pain begin.

Light is the first thing that Alexander can see as himself. Light, overwhelmingly bright but kind in its warmth. A golden glow basks the scene in front of him, although the scene itself is indistinct, fuzzy. Still hiding on the edges of understanding, like a half-remembered dream. 

The second thing he notices is that he _is _himself. In a manner of speaking. The bubbly, nervous Alex who fiddles with his hands, his legs, his mind; who is constantly checking his surroundings as if waiting for them to disappear like ash on the wind; who wears his new life like an ill-fitting coat – he is still there, just stuck in the sidelines like an overenthusiastic understudy. Alexander is the main character of this play.__

__It feels like the most natural thing in the world, standing in this hazy, bright place with his mind present and clear, tying him down like a solid stone in this rushing river of memory. For once, keeping him still. Yet, he knows through some preternatural sense that he shouldn’t be here. He should be dead and gone, buried in the sands of time, living on in legacy only._ _

__Damn his legacy! He’s seen through the eyes of this new man long enough to know that the mere concept is a joke. A hilarious prank by a universe whose uncaring gaze never wavers but whose attention is hardly flattering. He’d much rather have lived his life as a good man than have lived it as a known one. Unfortunately, the past is not his to change, but the present, well, the present is another matter entirely.__

 _ _The blurry borders of black are being pushed ever backward as the light expands, its reach growing and its presence snatching Alexander’s attention away from him. Wherever he is, it feels… familiar, but not in a way he associates with the memories stuffed to the brim into his mind from his twin lives. It almost feels as if this spice is talking to him, trying to communicate some idea that is beyond his comprehension. If only the ever-flowing thoughts in his head could grant him a moment of peace so he could properly listen._ _

__But, while he has these gnats circling his head, he might as well examine their color and count their number. He knows only a few things about his situation, beyond what he has managed to garner implicitly. He has clearly been reborn in some fashion, which is already a unique concept without him layering on the fact that now his mind has been divided in two by the notion. As far as he’s aware, it’s only ever been Alex inside this brain, but now that Alexander has stepped up beside him, reawakened from a hidden past, this mess of a mind has become exponentially messier. If he’s being honest with himself, he has no idea where to begin._ _

__Oh, how he wishes he had the advice of his friends, of his family, to guide him through this new place. Only, in this life, all he has are…_ _

__Damn it. Suddenly, all the odd glances, the suspicious words, the barely concealed worry can be easily explained. In fact, Burr’s reemergence into his life explains quite a bit, although he’s not yet sure how much good and how much bad. Perhaps only time will tell in this instance, although he never was much of a fan of the machinations of the clock. It always seemed to wish to work against him._ _

_Her _presence is also understandable, and while her reaction may have been a tad overzealous, he can understand the root of it. He left her and his dear Eliza alone against the troubles of their harsh and complicated life, and for that, he should be forced to endure a thousand lifetimes of misery and abuse. That’s not even bothering to consider the many other lives who were affected by his ending, such as his children, Lafayette, John- Wait. No.__

_____No, he’s sure that’s not right. Something about that doesn’t add up, even though in his mind’s eye, the picture is so clear. Laurens’ face, torn apart by despair and dread, haunts his memories like a ghost walking in the land of the living. His saddened presence could be explained fairly easily at first glance, perhaps, except it’s also present in his new memories. In Alex’s memories._ _ _ _ _

___He doesn’t know Laurens in this life. He’s sure of it. Why else would Laurens not say something to him? Why wouldn’t he reach out? He understands Burr’s hesitation – he is famous for it – yet even still, the man has let slip at least one hint at his true self. Meanwhile, Angelica has been incredibly vocal about her thoughts on the matter of his reincarnation, even if he didn’t know it at the time. Compared to them, Laurens has even less of a reason to hold back._ _ _

___The light of the room is becoming harsher. It’s gradual at first, so gradual he doesn’t even notice, until its warmth becomes searing. The brightness pins him in place, placing him at the center of attention. For once, he doesn’t want the scrutiny. He can’t bear the thought of another pair of eyes witnessing him in this moment, as his face freezes in horror and his mind races over every possibility. His surroundings glare back at him, heedless of his wishes and judgmental of his every move.___

 _ _ _The cavernous void beyond the light is growing darker by the second, its absence encroaching on the corners of his vision. The light itself is as a brutal sun forced too close to the Earth, splintering his world into sharpened shards of color where that shouldn’t be any. He is blinded, and blind. A witless man, if there ever was one. The memories that had calmly flowed over the surface of his mind are now a rampant downpour, an increasing flood of information that feels as though it will break his mind open. Whatever the trigger, whether Laurens and the pain that accompanies their shared memories or the possibility that his return to this world may not be accepted with open arms, he is well past that breaking point._ _ _

___Now, everything has become a weapon that he can turn against himself with malicious intent. His son’s face, the staring sun pulsing gold with the love he had felt before its searing intensity doubles as he watches his son die on the table, red coating his vision as if it were his blood that was pouring out._ _ _

___Next, his wife, grief-stricken at his bedside, but simultaneously with child in their garden, explaining carefully the worries that haunt her without his notice. His wife taking his hand but also standing cold and callous against the city’s darkness, robed in black. Unmoved by his flickering gaze._ _ _

___Burr with a polite smile on his face as he watches an exuberant child of a man engulf him in a sea of words. Burr fighting alongside him on a battlefield of glowering contemplation and legal terminology, looking as beaten down as the corpse they’re all arguing about. Burr, pulling the trigger._ _ _

___Laurens at his wedding, eyes so bright and arms so warm as he pulls Alexander into an embrace. The whole gang together at a bar on some late night that Alexander has almost no recollection of, save for the feeling of Laurens pressed against his side on the bench, a mug of beer in his hand and that beautiful smile lighting up his face. Laurens, bleeding out alone in some distant field in South Carolina, ignorant to the war’s end. Unknowing of the tears that would be shed for his passing._ _ _

___A hundred memories. A hundred people, come and gone from his life, whether by his own doing or by the flow of time’s. Enough sorrow and joy to last him a million lifetimes, all playing at once inside his mind. He supposes this is what it feels like to have your life flash before your eyes. He’s just experiencing it a little later than most._ _ _

___All of this, all of the things he did and didn’t do, all of the words he never was able to speak or write, all of the people he never said goodbye to… All of it rushes back, and it is overwhelming. He should feel heartened by seeing his accomplishments and his loved ones displayed before him like this, but all he can feel is the sickly bite of a wolf named Grief and the curdling dread of a lurking wolf named Regret. He had so much potential, and he did so much, so why does it still feel as though this light is burning a hole in him? Burning a hole into the history pages so that one day the book will light afire and no one will remember his name?___

 _Would that be better?_

___The thought haunts him, even as he tells himself it does not. He shouldn’t feel any grief or regret over the loss of his former life. He lived it, and now it’s over. He always knew he would never have enough time. He won’t become like Burr, won’t fester in the hatred of all the things he left behind, be they opportunities or others. He never hesitated, he never wavered, he never held back. He was proud of that fact. So, why then are his quick decisions coming to haunt him? Why does he regret acting instead of waiting in the end?_ _ _

______His world is an hourglass upended, the sands trickling the opposite way from how they previously flowed. At least he has a second chance, one in which he can wait too long or act too rashly by his own prerogative, but somehow, that thought feels less… exciting, now. As Alex, he had a future, a world worth exploring and fresh eyes to explore it with. Alexander already played his part. Alexander already explored it all, for better or worse. In this new age, there is even more to see than there was in his time, but who should live to see it?____ _ _

___As if the dawn has broken on a new day, the choice is made clear in a flash. The light resolves itself into a spotlight of epic proportion. His surroundings, a stage. And the darkness, well, behind it lies the watching eyes of… something. For all his endless curiosity, Alexander is too afraid to find out who._ _ _

_____ _

In these things, there is a question being posed. All he needs to do is answer it. Yet, here he is. Stalling. Hesitating. _Waiting. _He is pausing at the most important moment of his new life, unsure where to go now that he’s come to this crossroads. He is living on a stage built on the foundations of his mistakes and his successes. His name has already been inscribed in the tomes of history, and his legacy has been made as concrete as ephemeral knowledge can be made. Alexander Hamilton has already lived his life.__

_____ _

_____So, the question stands._ _ _ _ _

_____ _

Those waiting in the wings watch with bated breath as Alexander, for once, falters. Shifts about himself, looking for some way to make up his mind, _someone _who can give him a hint as to how to proceed.__

_____“Alexander?”_ _ _ _ _

_____ _

___The voice is like a lullaby from nights long gone – soft and full of the hope of past comforts. It is music to Alexander’s ears. He turns and feels his face break out into a shining, tear-dripped smile._ _ _

_____ _

“Laurens?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note - This version of Alexander Hamilton is 100% fictional (obviously), but I mean that in every sense of the word. Basically, this is my take on Musical!Hamilton, because real Hamilton doesn't even deserve an ounce of the sort-of praise I give him in this chapter. He doesn't deserve a single goddamn thing in my book. Honestly, if his Federalist ass had never existed, I'm convinced the world would be a better place, so for the sake of being able to stomach writing this fic, I am relying entirely on Lin's fictional characterization and the glorious, angsty goodness that lies therein, ripe for the taking. 
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed and remember to dunk on racism, sexism, and capitalism whenever you can, comrades. Also, remember to stay kind, stay safe, and stay radiant, and I'll catch you all next week!


	23. They'll Tell the Story of Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander makes his choice, with a little help.

They walk side by side through the ever-darkening expanse. The shine of the limelight is distant now, nothing but a far-away spot in his periphery. His gaze is only for the impossible man standing beside him. Neither of them have spoken much since he appeared, even though a thousand words beat against Alexander’s skull like hounds baying for answers. For all the things he imagined himself saying, for all those years of doing his own kind of waiting, none of them spill from his lips. Something in his throat blocks them, chokes them back, and he remains silent. They stay this way for an eternity, and for far shorter a time than he would like. Finally, Laurens opens his mouth and speaks. 

“So. What have you been up to?” 

Alexander chokes back what he suspects is another sob as he bats at the man’s arm. He may be a full-grown man (in spirit, at least), but he will be damned if seeing Laurens doesn’t bring out the youthful soldier who had stared down the worst of the war and seen opportunities rather than bloodshed. He has no idea how he is supposed to feel about that. 

“Burr shot me,” he says as soon as he is able to form comprehensible words again. 

“So I heard.” There is a playful lilt to Laurens’ voice as he looks Alexander over. “You’re looking pretty good for a dead guy.” 

“Says the ghost.” It comes out before Alexander can think better of it, but by some miracle, it is spoken lightly, in a jeering fashion. A small smile forms on Laurens’ lips, although it is not entirely a happy one. 

“Look, man, I’m just a figment of your imagination. The presentation is all up to you.” 

Alexander’s heart drops into his well-oiled boots, and he stops walking, forcing this not-Laurens to halt slightly ahead of him. “What?” 

“C’mon, Alex. Or is it Alexander, now? Give up the charade. We’re in _your _head.” Laurens looks almost disappointed, or as disappointed as Alexander ever saw his face get. Even with the replicated expression and identical form, Alexander is beginning to see the flaws. Laurens’ posture is just a little too loose, his hair just a little too floppy, his eyes just a little too bright. It’s how Alexander had always seen him, not necessarily how he had always been.__

____

“You can’t lie to yourself,” Laurens concludes casually, as if he hasn’t packed Alexander’s hopes and dreams into a casket and dumped it into a particularly unforgiving patch of quicksand. 

____

“I apologize for the assumption,” Alexander replies, stiffly stuffing his feelings under wraps. He supposes it doesn’t much matter, since he is essentially speaking to himself, but some selfish part of his mind still wants to cling onto the farce. 

____

“It’s no biggie.” Now that Alexander is noticing, now that he understands, the words sound all wrong to his ears. An echo of the real Laurens is there, but it is as if he is hearing it from some great distance. It has had to travel through some enormous canyon to reach him, and by this point, it has been distorted into something else entirely. It is overlapped with memories of what was, what is, what will be, all jumbled up together. The truth long forgotten. 

____

“Hey.” Laurens bumps into his side, and that at least is familiar. It grounds him, and Alexander blinks at this spirit of his own devising standing at his side. “You okay?” 

____

“As I’ll ever be,” Alexander replies wryly. 

____

“Have a little optimism, won’t ya? That Hamilton guy we both used to know would never just give up. No matter what. He’d keep fighting, keep writing, keep living, long as he could.” Laurens looks as if he is trying to poke for something, some reaction, but all Alexander can muster is an uncertain: 

____

“I am not that man anymore, Laurens. Or, I do not know if I can be. Not again.” 

____

“Neither am I, but I’d say we’re both damn good impressions.” Laurens cocks his head, and they both begin walking again, the darkness before them, the light behind them. Everything else in between. “Besides, what defines a person, anyhow? Their mannerisms? Their words? Their memories?” 

____

“I don’t believe I ever found that answer in my writings, you know,” Alexander says, his eyes stuck on where they’re headed, the profound nothing that marks their every step forward. 

____

“Exactly. You have no clue, and neither do I.” Alexander glances up and spots that devilish gleam flickering in his eyes, the one that always means trouble. “Truth is, I don’t think anyone has it figured out. Meaning, you can be anyone you want to be, Alexander. Doesn’t matter who you were before.” 

____

“I don’t know about that.” Alexander tilts his head in return. “Alex and I are different people, Laurens. If life is really about memory and mannerisms, I would have to erase him to make room for me. I do not- I _cannot _-”__

____

__“Bullshit.”_ _

____

__Alexander recoils from his old friend, giving him an incredulous look. Laurens makes a roundabout gesture, the meaning of which is fully lost on Alexander. For all his ways with words, the subtlety of body language has always been a lost cause as far as he is concerned._ _

____

__“Alexander, you never gave a shit about other people’s feelings in any other life. Not until it really mattered, and by then, it was already too late. So, why don’t you tell me what this is really about?”_ _

____

__“I don’t-”_ _

____

__“I’m you, remember? Or a side of you, anyway, one that wants to have this conversation. I know when you’re lying to me, dumbass.”_ _

____

__Alexander raises his eyebrows at Laurens pointedly, but the lookalike takes no notice of his foul language, finishing his tirade with a sharp, “Stop deflecting, and answer the question already, Hamilton.”_ _

____

__“I don’t know what to tell you.” Alexander hesitates, weighing his words carefully for once in his life. “I know that there is some caution within me concerning the notion of my return to the world. There is Burr to consider, and Angelica, and-”_ _

____

___“Yeah, yeah. You don’t want to deal with the people you fucked up with.” Laurens makes a 'speed-up' hand gesture, and Alexander stifles a growl. “You could at least pretend to have a sense of decorum, you know,” he snarks. Laurens makes a face.___

__

___“Oh, yeah, because you’re really good at keeping up those things in real life, much less in your own head.”_ _ _

__

___“Point taken,” Alexander huffs, regarding the arrogant Laurens lookalike with barely disguised annoyance. “Also, Burr was not my fault.”_ _ _

__

___“He asked you if you said something shitty about him, and you basically said, ‘don’t know, bro, but while you’re here, let me insult you.’”_ _ _

__

___“He shot me!”_ _ _

__

___“Mm, you got really close to shooting him, too.”_ _ _

__

___“Whose side are you on here?” Alexander demands._ _ _

__

“I don’t know, what side are _you _on here?” Just like that, this not-Laurens’ entire demeanor changes into that of a questioning priest who is drawn to seeds of doubt like an anteater to a colony. “One minute, you’re regretting everything you’ve ever done, and the next, it’s looking like you want to live as yourself after all.” Laurens’ face shifts again, contorting into something approaching real concern. Alexander isn’t sure if that’s a good sign or not. “What do you want, Alexander?”__

__

_____“I don’t know!” Alexander snaps. The realization slices through him, and he turns and storms off a ways. He needs space, space to think, space to understand the roaring thoughts pulsing through his head. And time. The thought almost sends him into hysterics. He always needs more time._ _ _ _ _

__

___“Laurens, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know why I brought you of all people here. And I don’t know why I cannot make this simple choice.”_ _ _

__

___“I do.” The voice sounds closer to him than it should, but Alexander does not dare turn around to see._ _ _

__

___“You do?” He doesn’t mean to sound as desperate as he does, but he can’t help it. He’s at his wit’s end, all from a conversation with himself._ _ _

__

___“’Course. You want to go back as him, because you liked being Alex. Secretly. Just a little bit. You liked knowing nothing and getting to experience it all again. You liked being able to live without any of those teaming little regrets you always pushed down and pretended didn’t exist.” A soft hand is placed on his shoulder, and Alexander melts into the touch, despite its fictious nature. He is far past caring about that now, not when he is surrounded by the darkness like this, hidden in the blackness of the backstage of his mind._ _ _

__

___“It’s selfish,” he admits at a whisper, knowing Laurens will hear it._ _ _

__

___“Of course it is, but that doesn’t mean it’s not what you want.” Laurens’ tone is friendly once more, and when Alexander turns toward him, he is greeted by the gentlest of smiles. “You want to live your life again, without all those pesky last-times getting in the way. I get it.”_ _ _

__

___“Of course you do.” Alexander lets out an exasperated breath. Laurens punches him lightly in the shoulder._ _ _

__

___“Yeah, because I want what’s best for you. That’s why I’m here. Because he did, too.”_ _ _

__

___When Alexander lets out a breath this time, it’s more an exhale of emotion than anything else. “Is it wrong, to choose this path?”_ _ _

__

___“I can’t tell you what’s wrong or right, buddy. That bit’s up to you.” Laurens retracts his hand, and Alexander aches for its warmth. Heedless of his longing, Laurens begins to move away, soft steps leading him farther and farther into the darkness. Leaving Alexander alone._ _ _

__

___“Wait.”_ _ _

__

___“What?”_ _ _

__

___Alexander’s gaze darts between the void where there should be the floor and Laurens’ face, suddenly overcome by a childish sense of embarrassment. “Will I lose you if I go back as him?”_ _ _

__

___“Well.” Laurens makes an expression that even Alexander’s poor skills can interpret as ‘so-so’. “From one perspective, theoretically, you’ll lose everything that made Hamilton, Hamilton. So, yes. But, you’ll get to explore the world with new eyes. You just gotta decide which is more important to you.” Then, of all things, he winks. “I’m sure you can do it. Having an opinion was always something you were good at.”_ _ _

__

___With that, he disappears off into the endless midnight. Alexander stands and waits. Stands and decides. Yes. Yes, he can do this. He has already made his choice, he knows, but he needs to be certain. He needs to make a choice that he won’t live to regret._ _ _

__

___If he even remembers this exchange after, which he doubts he will. In fact, this him, this Alexander, this person who made the choice, most likely won’t exist when he wakes up. Not in memory or mannerism, at least._ _ _

__

___Forget this philosophizing. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters now is what comes next._ _ _

__

___"He has so much work to do," Alexander mumbles to himself, nodding his head in time with his final decision._ _ _

__

___With one last look at the lightening shades of this place, now grey as the early dawn, Alexander closes his eyes and lets his understudy take the lead. God help him._ _ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! This one was fun! I hope you guys enjoyed, and I'll see you all next week for some misunderstandings, some exciting revelations, and the grand reveal of a new club on campus. ;)
> 
> Also, for anyone who was curious, this chapter is dedicated to Tomorrow There'll Be More of Us and all the sorrow it has brought us fans. Rest in peace, John Laurens. May your memory live on, always.
> 
> Stay healthy, stay kind, stay safe, and stay radiant, you fabulous creatures!


	24. Bear With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though life often has the tendency to feel as if it's stopped, frozen in time, it is always carrying on, relentless and endless.

Alex’s chest heaves in and out, taking rabbit-quick breathes as his mind reels itself back into place. His eyes are having trouble focusing on his surroundings. He doesn’t know the last time he ate, or drank, or properly slept. Actually, he doesn’t remember much at this point in time. Everything in this brain is just a bit fuzzy, out of reach as if he is stuck in the void of space, grabbing and grasping for air that doesn’t exist. 

The first thing that gets through to him is a face, pushed up too close to his own, filling his entire vision. A face he recognizes as… 

“Andy? What the- I-” he begins to stammer, before his eyes finally decide to give him a full view of his situation, and he pulls up short. “ _What _?”__

____

“What ‘what’? We need you to be a bit more specific here, H-” Adrianna says, but Andrew turns and cuts her off with a Look. Alex isn’t sure exactly what kind of Look it is, just that it definitely has a capital ‘L’, and it probably doesn’t mean anything good. 

____

“What do you remember, uh, Alex?” Andy asks, turning back to Alex. Alex blinks at him, his brain taking a few seconds of processing time for every sentence spoken. 

____

“Uh, well, I remember, uh, working on my paper, and then Jason was here, and I-” Realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning. “Shit.” 

____

“Yes?” Andy prompts. The guy looks on the edge of… _something._

____

____

__

“I totally spaced him out. I don’t even know what happened, I was just being snippy, and then, I don’t know, I guess my brain decided that moment was a good one to sleep?” Alex struggles to put the experience into words. For some reason, his mind is giving him the nagging suspicion that there is something more going on. That some profound multitude was contained within those minutes (hours?) of unconsciousness, but nothing except void is slipping through his fingertips. He forges on, “Where is Jason? I didn’t freak him out too bad, right?” 

__

____

__

“Ah. Yes.” Andy moves back a step, or more accurately, scoots back a bit, as he is locked in an uncomfortable-looking position on his knees. “Well, about that…” 

__

____

__

“He’s fine,” Adrianna interjects. She exchanges another Look with Andy – same thing, different flavor. What exactly is going on with them? Last time Alex had seen this woman, she’d looked like she wanted to gut them both like pumpkins. “It’s all fine.” 

__

____

__

Andy looks tempted to disagree, but ultimately, he gives Alex his best faux reassuring smile. As if he doesn’t think Alex is good at sussing out that sort of thing. “Yes. Right. What she said. But the real question is, how are you?” 

__

____

__

The question strikes Alex a little deeper than he thinks it was supposed to. He allows himself a full five seconds to think his answer through, before saying, “Yeah, I think I’m fine. Just a little confused.” 

__

____

__

“About what?” Adrianna leans in, looking for all the world like a teacher who has just heard the right answer whispered under the breath of an otherwise underperforming student. 

__

____

__

"Why you’re both in my room,” Alex blurts, unable to hold back his curiosity any longer. Both of them do that Look thing once more – it’s starting to really get on Alex’s nerves, all this secrecy – before Andrew opens his mouth to answer. 

__

____

__

“We’re…” he trails off, his eyes somewhere deep in his mind palace of thought, before finally meeting Alex’s eyes. He sighs, “In all honesty, we were concerned. Jason called Adrianna, and Adrianna called me. He thought you had gone into a, uh, a coma, so we came to help.” 

__

____

__

“Why’d Jason call you?” Alex asks, his eyes flitting from one face to the other and eventually settling on Adrianna’s. 

__

____

__

“He’s my friend.” 

__

____

__

“Really?” Alex can’t help his eyebrows going up. “You’re saying you’ve known my roommate _and _my closest friend this whole time, and we still didn’t meet until halfway through the semester?”__

__

______ _ _

__

She frowns at him. Her brow crinkles in a pretty funny way when she does that. “I suppose you’re right.” Another Look at Andy, although Andy doesn’t return it. His eyes are stuck to Alex’s face. Alex resists the urge to cock his head at him and instead focuses back on Adrianna as she says, “That is a little strange.” 

__

______ _ _

__

“Yeah. Gotta love coincidences like that.” Alex stands and stretches. Or, that’s what he was going to do, except his legs have other ideas. Ideas that start with ‘s’ and end with ‘leepy’. 

__

______ _ _

__

“Ooh, shit.” He lands back on his chair with an oomph, feeling thoroughly embarrassed but mostly exhausted. He’d thought his Sleeping Beauty moment not minutes before would have cleared that up, but it turns out he can never catch a break. 

__

______ _ _

__

Andy gives him a concerned look (undercase ‘l’), but Alex waves him off. “Just tired. Weird, I know, since I’ve been asleep for…” he comes to a grinding halt, the query obvious in his unsaid words. 

__

______ _ _

__

Adrianna looks down at her watch, makes a face to herself, then looks back at Alex. “Three hours.” 

__

______ _ _

__

“I am so screwed. I got work that I need to-” 

__

______ _ _

__

“No.” Andy is shaking his head before Alex even finishes his sentence, which is probably for the best as a sudden flood of drowsiness is overtaking Alex, and talking is hard. “What you need is rest. These sorts of experiences take a lot out of you.” 

__

______ _ _

__

“What, randomly falling asleep in the middle of talking to your roommate?” Alex jokes, although he knows Andy is right. His eyelids are getting droopy, and he’s not sure he’s seeing things straight because Andy’s face does a confusing thing before it settles on a rigid blankness. Maybe he said something wrong. He doesn’t quite have the brain power to figure it out at the moment, and he doesn’t have the energy to care about not having the brain power. 

__

______ _ _

__

“Why don’t we give you some space. I’ll let Jason know you’re okay, all right?” Andy gives him a quick pat on the shoulder, stretching into a standing position in a way that instantly evokes an image of a cat to Alex. He chuckles at the thought, and Andy gives him a weird look. This time, he thinks he knows why – he’s acting as crazy as he did last weekend, and there isn’t even any alcohol in his system to blame. 

__

______ _ _

__

Man, that feels like a lifetime ago. 

__

______ _ _

__

“Sleep well, Alex,” Adrianna says, and then in between blinks, they’re gone. Alex sighs and lugs himself over to his bed, slumping into it. His eyes slowly close, the last thing he sees before he drifts off the white ceiling above him and a face that he has no memory of smiling down at him. 

__

______ _ _

__

______

__

____~~~***~~~____

______

______

___The rest of midterms are a blur. Work done, exams taken, writing sprinted through. Thankfully, no other Incidents occur, for which Andrew is eternally grateful. He doesn’t think his mind could take it, much less his heart. The stress of college itself is enough for him.___

______

Besides, he already has another conundrum to work out. The words ‘closest friend’ have not stopped echoing in his mind since the Incident with Alex, and even though odds are Alex was just exhausted, it sticks with him regardless. Burns its way into the folds of his brain until the words cease to mean anything but a bunch of noises stuck together. He should forget it and move on, but it’s just, he’s never been called that before. Not in almost 100 total years of existence has anyone thought of him as something approaching a real friend, much less one of their ‘closest’. He feels like he is losing his mind, and at the epicenter of it, as always, is Alex. 

______

The epicenter of it all. A man who should not exist choosing not to. That’s the only explanation that comes to Andrew, at least. He knows what he saw. He knows that Alex was not simply sleep-deprived; he was _remembering _. But he didn’t. In the end, he turned back from his memories and chose a new life. Andrew hadn’t even realized that was possible, much less a choice worth choosing, but if Hamilton did that, then his choice must be respected.__

______

__And for the sake of the man who Andrew inexplicably considers his closest friend in return – even after so little time together and so much history between them – Andrew won’t poke or prod. He’ll leave it be and let it all play out as it will. There is much to admire about this man, anyway, rather than the one who lurks behind his eyes. For one thing, he’s a lot less rude, which is an improvement. And then, there’s his attitude.__

__________

“Andy, I don’t think what you’re proposing makes any sense. Do you really believe that the issue of poverty can be solved so simply?” 

__________

“I don’t remember ever stating that anything about universal basic income was ‘simple’, but yes, I do think that as a plan, it holds up in both the logistical department and in the way of moral logic. If the rich would give more, the general populous could be a safer, happier one. I think everyone would benefit.” 

__________

“But what about those who would exploit it, huh? What is your plan for those who would take advantage of the system, as some have taken advantage of the welfare system?” 

__________

“Of course there would be outliers, but-” 

__________

____

__________

“Time,” Mayhill calls, and both sides relax. Andrew comes over, hand outstretched. 

__________

____

__________

“Well done.” 

__________

____

__________

“Eh,” Alex pulls a face. “I don’t think my heart was really in it.” 

__________

____

__________

“Your heart is never in it when you have to argue against something you believe in, Alex. That is rather the point of doing this whole exercise.” 

__________

____

__________

“I just don’t get why I _have _to take an opposite stance.”__

__________

________

__________

“It improves your ability to come up with logical arguments. It’s an invaluable skill to have as a lawyer. You never know when you will be forced to argue a case you don’t believe in, and everyone has the right to an unbiased attorney, whether they’re guilty or not.” 

__________

________

__________

“But that’s the whole reason why I am going to be fighting _against _the corporations, Andy,” Alex whines, although his heart doesn’t seem to be in that either. “So I don’t have to disagree with myself.”__

__________

____________

__________

“Oh, yes, because things are always so black and white in the real world.” 

__________

____________

__________

Alex sticks his tongue out, and Andrew is forced to confront the fact that he wants to laugh more than he wants to make fun of Alex. He still chooses the latter, out of spite. “You’re a child.” 

__________

____________

__________

“And you’re an old man.” 

__________

____________

__________

Andrew is satisfied to discover that the words don’t make him flinch anymore. It’s practiced by now, an old routine between the two of them. Exposure therapy, or something like it. “Well-” Before he can get another word out, Mayhill comes over to them, a jubilant smile on her lips. 

__________

____________

__________

“Good work, both of you. You should be proud to call yourselves lawyers-in-training.” 

__________

____________

__________

“Thank you, ma’am.” Andrew dips his head. 

__________

____________

__________

Alex, on the other hand, doesn’t look particularly enthused by the compliment. Maybe he has realized something is up with Mayhill, as well. But no, Alex’s doubt seems to all be screwed inward. Andrew doesn’t mean to fuss over him like a mother bear, but he can’t help but worry whenever he gets like this. “

__________

____________

__________

Yeah, thank you,” Alex mumbles out, turning back to his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Andrew is about to follow his lead, when the door opens with a slightly less dramatic creak than it did last time but with the same face on the other side. 

__________

____________

__________

“Hello, boys,” Adrianna says, her eyes drifting between the two of them with a curious twinge of shyness (or the equivalent for Adrianna, which means she is just slightly less confident). 

__________

____________

__________

“Adrianna,” Andrew inclines his head to her. There is a strange bond between the two of them now, one that Andrew isn’t sure how to quantify. They respect each other, and after the Incident, they trust each other enough to know no one will be shooting the other in the back, but he wouldn’t say they necessarily get on easily. Every exchange feels like a trapeze wire, with both of them fighting for balance as the other weighs down the line at the other side. 

__________

____________

__________

“Andrew,” she responds in kind. Her eyes settle on Alex. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” 

__________

____________

__________

Andrew tenses. They had agreed after the Incident that neither would bring up the events of that night to anyone unless asked, but there’s a possibility that Adrianna has decided to test the waters after all. He hopes she has the good sense not to, but in the end, it’s not his choice to make. It’s neither of theirs. 

__________

____________

__________

“Uh, sure.” Alex flashes Andrew a quick look, then follows Adrianna out into the hallway. The moments stretch, each an eternity, as Andrew waits for them to return. All the while, Mayhill sits at the edge of her desk, silent and comfortable. A joyous woman at peace. 

__________

____________

__________

Andrew is finally getting tired of waiting and is about to move to… listen to the ambient noises of the hallway from the vantage place of the door, when Mayhill clears her throat sharply. At his questioning look, she indulges him in a knowing expression. 

__________

____________

__________

“Let them be. Adrianna is a smart woman. She won’t do anything foolish, especially not in this tentatively unfolding situation you’ve got yourselves into.” 

__________

____________

__________

Andrew frowns. Somehow, it feels as though Mayhill is addressing his anxieties specifically, rather than in the general way one would expect. He opens his mouth to ask, but she cuts him off, still gazing at him through blue eyes that know far more than they reasonably should. “I may be a professor, but that doesn’t mean I don’t speak to others, Mr. Ron. I know what goes on in my school.” 

__________

____________

__________

“Ah.” Andrew turns away, unable to take any more of that gaze or of the racing thoughts in his head. He had suspected, but Mayhill has all but confirmed every one of the creeping thoughts that had twined inside his head like ivy. Interesting. 

__________

____________

__________

“I do have one question for you, my dear boy.” Mayhill stands from her desk, a placating smile affixed once more to her gently wrinkled face. “What’s changed?” 

__________

____________

__________

“I’m sorry?” Andrew shifts uncomfortably in place. 

__________

____________

__________

“You know, what’s happening in your head now? You seem in a different place than when we last spoke.” 

__________

____________

__________

“I-” Andrew falters, as he always seems be doing these days. Again, unable to answer simple questions about his life. This is starting to become ridiculous. “I suppose I am.” 

__________

____________

__________

“Good or bad?” 

__________

____________

__________

“Neutral.” Andrew punctuates his reply with a definitive nod. He can play this question-and-answer game. He can do that much. “I think… I think I just understand some things better. Other things, not so much, but isn’t that how it always is?” 

__________

____________

__________

It’s a rhetorical question, but Mayhill seems to take it literally as she smiles some more and nods. “I must say, Mr. Ron, you continue to impress me with your progress.” 

__________

____________

__________

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

__________

____________

__________

“Nothing, if you don’t want it to.” She looks on the verge of winking at him, which would just work perfectly for her whole intolerably vague aesthetic, but they are interrupted by the long-awaited return of Adrianna and Alex. They both look… fine. Absolutely fine. 

__________

____________

__________

Maybe Mayhill was right. 

__________

____________

__________

“Done?” he finds himself asking. 

__________

____________

__________

“He’s all yours,” Adrianna says, “Now, for the real reason I came here. I would actually like to join this lovely club of yours, if that’s still a possibility after all the trouble I caused yesterday.” 

__________

____________

__________

“You are always welcome here, Adrianna.” Mayhill smiles up at her, and Adrianna smiles back. 

__________

____________

__________

“Fantastic. Well, it seems as though you’re about ready to conclude for today, so I’ll be seeing you all, then-” 

__________

____________

__________

“Nonsense! These boys just have no sense of proper time,” Mayhill insists, gesturing to the clock ticking away in the corner. It is clearly displaying the fact that the club should have ended a solid fifteen minutes ago. “Stay. I’m sure we can all make a good time of it.” 

__________

____________

__________

“All right.” Adrianna’s smile widens, and she exchanges glances with Alex and Andrew. Alex is looking calmer, now that Andrew has a chance to fully observe his features. Whatever Adrianna said, it must have been something nice. Andrew lets the smallest of smiles creep onto his own face. 

__________

____________

__________

“Just be careful of Alex, Adrianna. He’ll rip your head off in a debate,” he advises. 

__________

____________

__________

“I do not!” 

__________

____________

__________

“I can believe it,” Adrianna comments mildly, despite the other words brewing behind her dark, stormy eyes. There’ll be time for letting out those comments later, amongst the two of them. If that is a possibility. 

__________

____________

__________

Looking at Adrianna now, slowly relaxing into the space of this tiny, cramped classroom with its beautiful paint job and its many shoved-aside desks, he thinks there just might be. 

__________

____________

__________

____________

__________

__________

______~~~***~~~______

______

______

___“Come on, hurry up! We’re going to be late, Andy,” Alex insists as he dashes through the streets of New York, dodging cabs on the road and people on the sidewalk. Mostly. He’s bumped into at least four people so far, but ten people have bumped into him in return, so he considers it even-stevens.___

______

“I’m trying, Alex, and I would be succeeding if you would just stop running,” Andy huffs. He sounds breathless, which is unfortunate for him, but Alex had promised Adrianna that they’d meet her at 10 am precisely. Right now, this is the only way to meet that goal. “It’s not my fault you decided that picking up a coffee before we go to get more coffee was a good idea,” Andy tacks on, and now it’s Alex’s turn to huff. 

______

“I was craving a Snickers latte, and you know that Coffee Be Black doesn’t serve that.” 

______

“Oh, the horror. What would you have done if you weren’t high on a sugary cocktail of diabetes incarnate.” Alex spares a second to look back at Andy, just in time to catch him rolling his eyes. You know, like a bastard. 

______

“Listen, man, certain things are essential to a good life experience. Snickers lattes are one of those things.” Alex carefully doesn’t mention the fact that getting the latte was more an act of self-preservation than anything else. He just needs something he can hold in his hands when they get there, something to focus his attention on when he doesn’t want to talk. 

______

Adrianna wants them to meet someone. Alex is already nervous enough around her, even after a whole week and a half of hanging out. It’s the eyes, it really is. They’re even more intense than Andy’s, and that’s saying something. And now, he’s expected to impress a friend of hers, and he is not exactly what you’d call thrilled. 

______

So, yeah, he’s going to need a sweet treat or two to amp him up for the encounter. And, since he recently made it through his midterms without having (another) nervous breakdown and with only a few points deducted for that shitty late paper, he thinks he definitely deserves it. Not to mention, finals are coming up soon. Soon-ish. Okay, soon as in within the eventual future, but that timeline terrifies Alex more than he’d like to admit. All in all, a little liquid courage never hurt anybody. 

______

“Whatever you say,” Andy jabs, reminding Alex where he is just in time. He narrowly dodges running into a vendor’s cart, continuing on as if he didn’t nearly make a fool of himself. At least Andy doesn’t seem to have noticed, too busy finally catching up to Alex. 

______

Or, so Alex had thought, when Andy asks, “You doing all right, Alex?” 

______

“What?” 

______

“You know, with everything. The stress of school, friends, life.” Andy makes a general gesture at the bustling crowds around them. Alex gets his meaning, although he isn’t sure how to answer it. He’s not exactly about to lie to Andy, and he’s not going to brush him off either, but he so does not want to go here at the start of an already nerve-wracking day. 

______

“I got through midterms,” he says finally. Andrew nods in the mutual understanding of a student pushed to their limit. 

______

“And personally?” 

______

Damn Andy and his follow-up questions. “You know, I think we’re almost to Coffee Be Black,” he dodges, you know, like a coward. At least they are always true to form. 

______

“Right.” Andy of course notices Alex’s shiftiness, but he lets it drop, leaving Alex a little disappointed but also unthinkably thankful. 

______

They truly are getting close to Coffee Be Black, but not close enough that there isn’t an awkward silence hanging between them all the rest of the way there. By the time Alex pulls up in front of the shop and holds the door open for Andy, he’s starting to feel like a really shitty friend for not even asking Andy how he is in return. These thoughts are scattered as soon as he sees the people who they are obviously here to meet. People. Plural. 

______

Damn. 

______

“Hi, guys!” Jason calls, waving them over. Alex takes them all in slowly as he heads over, Andy somehow at his back despite being in front of him seconds before. 

______

Adrianna sits beside Jason on the open end of their window-display booth, obviously having been in the middle of saying something before she was so rudely interrupted (or, at least, that’s what her face seems to be implying). A woman with sky blue hair and paintbrush earrings sits on the other side of him, fiddling with her phone and generally paying no mind to them at all. 

______

On the opposite side of the booth sits a familiar face surrounded by an artfully-tousled shell of blond hair, complete with picture-perfect, piercing grey eyes – Gil, the party-master who had doomed Alex into this cycle of self-doubt. Well, that’s not fair. It wasn’t all his fault. Or any bit his fault, really. 

______

Next to Gil sits a man with a chocolate afro and just about the nicest suit that Alex has ever seen. He rings bells in Alex’s head; he must have seen the guy at the party somewhere. And next to him, right on the end nearest to where Alex halts, sits a woman who feels equally familiar, although in a different, more poignant way. She has dark, almost black hair, and eyes so bright and shining that he can’t even tell their color. She’s beautiful, but not in a way Alex knows how to understand. 

______

“Welcome to our humble coffee hangout of choice,” Jason continues, seeming not to notice Alex’s internal dismay at his own forgetfulness. He’s sure he’s seen this woman before, somewhere. “It’s got the best coffee in town, as well as the worst pastries.” 

______

“We know,” Andy says distantly, looking over the group with a certain something in his eyes that Alex would discern if he weren’t too busy being distant and freaked out himself. “We come here often.” 

______

“Well, isn’t that a weird coinkidink?” Jason’s smile crinkles up his eyes. It almost gets Alex to smile as well, if it wasn’t for the chasm of anxiety currently opening up inside his chest. 

______

Adrianna, for her part, has fallen silent and does not look like she thinks this is a funny little coincidence at all. In fact, she looks a little disturbed and is making that very clear with more of those stupid Looks with Andy. Alex’s gaze drifts away from them and back to the people clustered inside the booth. 

______

“Nice to see you again, Gil,” he manages. 

______

“A pleasure!” Gil chimes, reaching out a hand that Alex lightly shakes. 

______

“And you guys are?” 

______

“You can call me Lin.” Sky Blue leans forward, a casual toss-up between a smile and placid curiosity playing out across her face. “What’s your dealio, buster?” 

______

“What?” he asks, a little taken aback. 

______

“You know, your whole thing.” She waves her hand around in his general direction. Alex looks down at himself as if that will help at all. “How does Adrianna know you, what are you doing in life, what’s your meaning on this too-small planet?” 

______

Alex opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and then just gives up completely. 

______

“Ignore her. Nice to meet ya, although I believe we’ve met before.” Nice Suit extends a hand, and Alex goes to shake it, only it turns into an exploding fist bump at the last moment. Nice Suit carries on, unfazed, “I was the one you puked next to.” 

______

“Oh. _Oh. _I am so sorry-”__

______

____

______

“Wait, Harry, this is that kid you told me about?” Gil asks, their eyes widening as they glance between Alex and Nice Suit with amusement dancing across their face. Alex shrinks in on himself a little. 

______

____

______

“Yeah, yeah, but don’t make a big deal of it. You’re making him uncomfortable, Gil.” 

______

____

______

“Oh! Apologies. Did I make you uncomfortable, herr Hernandez?” 

______

____

______

“Uh…” 

______

____

______

Adrianna clears her throat, cutting them all off and saving Alex from doing the embarrassing work of fainting in order to get away from all the attention. “Well, it seems some of you have already met, but just in case, this is Alex. Alex, Andrew, this is Harry and Gil – they’re together.” 

______

____

______

“Glad my only identifiable feature is being in a relationship,” Harry gripes. 

______

____

______

“Lin and Elena – my cousins.” Lin gives a wave that Alex can only interpret as being aggressively relaxed. The Other Woman, Elena, simply smiles. 

______

____

______

“And Jason, who you’ve both already met.” 

______

____

______

Jason waves enthusiastically on cue. 

______

____

______

“And everyone, this is Alex and Andrew. I met them both recently, and I thought that it was about time all of us… say hello.” It seems, in this moment at least, that Adrianna herself has no idea why she arranged this get-together. Alex concurs with her on that point. 

______

____

______

“And what better place than at the coffee shop with the most beautiful barista in town?” Jason asks, nudging an elbow into Adrianna’s side. She glares him down. 

______

____

______

“Jason,” Elena admonishes. Alex watches as Adrianna’s eyes flit ever-so-quickly from her cousin to the counter where Morgan is working away, as usual, and then back to the group. Huh. 

______

____

______

A bit of an awkward silence falls over them after that, everyone just sitting there and being quiet, until Andy breaks it with a strangely meek (for him), “Can we sit?” 

______

____

______

Immediately, the booth is a flurry of motion as everyone tries to cram themselves far enough back on the too-small leather seating to fit two new people. It ends in Andrew taking the spot next to Adrianna, and Alex fitting in beside Elena, neither of them looking entirely comfortable with the arrangement. 

______

____

______

For a long, long moment, the hiss of coffee machines and the whisper of patrons dominate the air around the booth. Alex takes a sip of his Snickers latte. Then: 

______

____

______

“So, what’s it like being Jason’s roommate, huh?” Harry asks, fixing Alex with what he hopes is a playful stare. 

______

____

______

“Oh, it’s-” Alex isn’t sure how to play this. He could go for silly and win some points, but maybe this is a test, a secret way to figure out if Alex is a good person or not, and he doesn’t want to lose any points that way, so- “It’s nice. Fine. Good.” 

______

____

______

Harry raises his eyebrows but makes an appeased sound. 

______

____

______

“Hear that, Jason. He thinks you’re ‘fine’.” Lin winks at Jason, who immediately flushes and looks out the window. It pours muddy grey light down on him, only exacerbating the redness in his cheeks. Alex feels suddenly very bad. Fine? _Fine _? That’s practically an insult, like saying someone has an ‘interesting’ personality, or- or a ‘nice’ haircut, or something. Shit, this is going perfect.__

______

________

______

“Sorry, that’s not-” he begins, a tad frantically, but Jason cuts him off with a good-natured laugh. 

______

________

______

“Relax, man, she’s just messing.” 

______

________

______

“She is prone to doing that,” Adrianna comments, giving her cousin a scolding look. Lin shrugs, unperturbed. The tension in the air eases, just slightly. 

______

________

______

“Andrew, was it?” Gil speaks after a moment, looking to Andy, who has been quite occupied sitting in silence and staring at nothing so far. “How are you faring with college?” 

______

________

______

“It’s been educational, for sure,” Andy replies. To Alex’s eye, he looks a bit nervous. He wonders why. Andy is always so cool and collected around people. 

______

________

______

Well, mostly, anyway. Sometimes. You know what, on second thought, he might be just as much of a mess as Alex is. That’s something approaching a reassuring thought. 

______

________

______

“I would hope so,” Jason snorts. 

______

________

______

Alex can’t shake the suspicion that he and Andy have stepped into an existing dynamic that flows as easily and inevitably as a river, and that they are clogging up the flow. One glance toward Andy’s face grants his fears validity – the poor guy looks downright mortified. 

______

________

______

“What’s your major, both of you?” 

______

________

______

Andy and Alex exchange a Look of their very own (and no, Alex isn’t secretly happy about that, what are you talking about), trying to figure out who is going to talk first and who is going to be the copycat. Eventually, Andrew speaks up. 

______

________

______

“Philosophy as a prelaw, on track to become a civil rights lawyer.” 

______

________

______

Adrianna chokes on nothing at all, and Andy shoots her a look (not a Look). 

______

________

______

“How’s that going?” Elena asks. Alex’s gaze is drawn automatically to the way her left hand keeps rubbing a bracelet that is mostly obscured by her puffy pink shirt. It looks like it’s made of gold, although he can’t quite tell. 

______

________

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“Well. Midterms all went well, so everything’s good so far.” 

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“Civil rights, huh? What are we talking here?” Harry asks. 

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Something lights up in Andy’s eyes, and he launches into an explanation of what his job will entail someday in the future. Alex wishes he had that much confidence, that much focus, that much drive. Of course, he still has his Speech, still has all those lifeless words prepared at a moment’s notice, but he’s not sure how many of them he even means anymore. There is certainly nothing that lights up in his eyes when he thinks of economics these days. 

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“What about you, Alex?” Lin interrupts Alex’s thoughts, fiercely pulling him like a riptide back into the present. “What’s your major?” 

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Andy is still busy explaining his destiny, with a few of the others enthralled by his words, so Alex supposes now is as good a time as any to explain his own. He speaks with his pre-prepared words, the spiel he developed over years of sitting in his foster family’s garage and wondering where he would go from there. 

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To his surprise, however, Lin cuts him off in the middle of the bit about the detriments of capitalism. “Do you like economics?” 

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“What?” Alex blinks at her. Of course he likes economics. (He has to.) “Of course.” 

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“Do you, though?” Something about the way she looks at him is unlike anything he’s seen from anyone before. It’s a cross between the intense understanding of Andy, and the probing questions of a psychic. It makes him want to melt into a puddle, or spew his life story, or just sit and be quiet a while in his own mind. Or all of the above, in that order. 

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He opts to do none of the above in the end, replying with a weak, “Yeah. Sure.” 

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She seems satisfied. At the very least, she seems to understand that he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He appreciates it more than he can say. 

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“So, what do you do?” he asks, for lack of anything better to keep this conversation going. 

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“Lin here is a social media guru,” Elena interjects, her eyes even more sparkly up close. 

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“Am not.” 

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“Oh, please. You have, what? Thirty thousand followers?” Adrianna chips in. “I’d count that as a success.” 

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“You guys are absolutely clueless, aren’t you.” Lin gesticulates with her phone for emphasis before taking a long draw from a cup full of what is presumably coffee. Although it does have a tiny umbrella sticking out of it, which muddies the waters somewhat. “Besides, I don’t like to think of it as my whole identity. Running a blog about the existential perils of living in a turbulent, occasionally nonsensical universe is more of a passion than a career.” 

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“Well, whatever it is, she is damn good at it,” Harry says. 

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“As you are with fashion,” Lin responds. She is a smooth deflector. Alex wishes he could take a masterclass from her on the subject. He sure needs it. 

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“Aw, shucks.” 

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“She is right, of course. You are a genius in the closet,” Gil adds, giving their partner a peck on the cheek. Jason makes a disgusted noise, and the table bursts into laughter. 

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“You guys are just saying that,” Harry insists, ducking his head. Adrianna grins at him from across the table. 

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“As a psychology major-” 

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Almost the entire table groans in unison. 

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“- I can definitively say they are not. You would be able to tell if they were. Like when people receive gifts they don’t like and get all fussy.” 

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“I’m not sure that’s exactly true, Adrianna,” Andy says. The attention of the table turns on him, but he doesn’t even flinch. “I doubt you could tell with me.” 

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“You kidding me, Andrew? You’re an open book.” 

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“Oh, really? What am I thinking right now?” There’s a challenge in Andy’s eyes. Alex grins at the sight. 

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“That I am just too good at this _not _to know what you’re thinking.” Adrianna takes a smug sip of her coffee. Alex doesn’t miss the tiny heart inscribed next to her name on the side of the cup.__

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“My god, if I knew you were psychic, I would have never agreed to this meeting,” Andy retorts. He seems to actually be lightening up. “You know all my secrets now.” 

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“’Now’? Always have, always will, Andrew buddy.” There is something more behind that statement, but Alex doesn’t have time to unpack it because the conversation around the table has already moved on, quick as a flash, to something about psychics and Jason’s grandmother, and now Gil is laughing at some word Harry used, and Andy is smiling along with some joke Elena gave them about lawyers, and Lin is shooting finger guns at Alex for who knows what reason, and he is… okay. He’s actually okay. He’s survived the icebreakers. 

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It can only go up from here. 

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______~~~***~~~______

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___“I’ve been thinking.”___

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“Didn’t know you did that these days.” 

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“Adrianna.” 

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“ _Andrew _.” She turns to him, four textbooks balanced precariously in a single hand as she eyes him up and down. “Where’s your other half?”__

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“I-” Andrew breaks off, mildly flustered with this unexpected question. He has thought through every part of this conversation, time and time again, repeated it in front of the mirror until he was dizzy, and yet still she manages to throw curveballs at him. “He’s off studying. And I have a proposal for you that unfortunately cannot include him.” 

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“I’m listening, but you must make it fast. I have something later, and I need to get some work done before then.” 

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“I will take as little of your time as I can, I promise. Adrianna-” Andrew takes a breath, trying to draw courage from the air itself to get out the words he needs to say. 

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“That is my name, yes.” 

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“How would you feel about making this official?” 

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Her eyebrows make an impressive effort to merge with her hair. “Making _what _official?”__

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“This… partnership we have going.” He’s off to a bad start. This isn’t at all how he wants this to come out. 

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“Okay. Buddy, I said it then, and I’ll say it now. You disgust me. Just a little bit. Not enough to make me reject you outright-” she puts her free hand up defensively, as if that was the part Andrew was worried about, “- but enough that _partnership _is never going to be on the table.”__

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“Oh. No. No.” He shakes his head vigorously. Oh dear, this isn’t going how he wanted at all. “No, no, no. I’m not- No.” 

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“I’m getting the impression you want to try that again?” One of her eyebrows has come down from space, but the other is still fairly high, perhaps in the stratosphere. 

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“You would be correct.” 

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“Told you I was good at reading you.” She moves past him to sit at one of the library’s tables. He sits beside her, steeling himself against the storm of his worries and the whispers that tell him to wait, to give it time, to not rush in too fast. 

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“I was wondering how you would feel about making a club dedicated to discussions between reincarnated souls.” 

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There those eyebrows go again, breaking through the clouds and soaring out amongst the stars. “Uh-huh. Except, Andrew, there are only two of us.” 

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“For now. But I’m sure you know people. And I-” Andrew weighs his words, then proceeds, “I think I might know someone, as well.” 

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“What, exactly, do you think dredging up old memories is going to do for this?” She waves her hand back and forth between them, clearly indicating their definitely-not-partnership. Andrew thinks of explaining it in beautiful prose, then thinks of making some magnanimous gesture, and finally settles on a simple shrug. 

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“It just might be nice to have someone we can really talk to it all about.” 

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That, of all things, seems to win her over slightly. “You have a point. Not especially easy to discuss these sorts of things with a therapist.” 

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“You would know.” 

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“Cute.” She makes a face. “But correct. Even I would think I was crazy.” 

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“I understand. Which is why…” 

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“Which is why you think this might be a good idea.” She frowns, her face freezing, caught mid-motion in a tumult of thoughts. “You know, I do know someone who I think would also benefit from this.” She returns her gaze to his face, as intent as ever. “Only problem is, you would need a professor to sign off on it for it to be official-official, and you would need about ten students to express interest.” 

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“I can do the first, though not the second. Perhaps it can be more of a private affair. An informal sort of meeting every week, or bi-weekly.” 

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She nods along. “I like it, although I must ask, what inspired this?” 

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The answer is instant and honest. “I need people I can talk to.” 

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She softens at that. “Me too. Well, you get a place and a time, and you let me know.” She gets up, already headed to wherever she’s going next. 

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“Adrianna?” 

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“Hm?” She looks to him with eyes so dark, they make it impossible for Andrew to ever fully discern the intentions that hide in their depths. 

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“Good luck with your date.” 

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“Was I too obvious?” she asks, her tone confident as ever but her body language shifting in time with the reactions flitting around on his face. 

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“No,” he smiles, trying to inject as much wry sarcasm as he can into the expression. “I’m just that good.” 

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________~~~***~~~________

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___“Still working? Aren’t you gonna ever take a break?” Jason asks the second he walks through their dorm door. Alex spins his roll-y chair around to level a half-serious glare at Jason.___

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“I have a paper due.” 

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“When?” 

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Alex bristles, feeling defensive despite the innocuous questions. “End of the semester, but everything is due at the end of the semester. I need to get ahead of the game now, before I’m swamped and sleep-deprived. Like last time.” 

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Jason winces, although he does a fair job at trying to hide it. Alex forces his bristles to retract, a bit. “Thanks, though.” 

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“What?” 

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“I appreciate the concern.” Alex feels a little ridiculous having to explain it, but here he is, doing it anyway. Good for him, saying the things he wants to say. It’s like he’s growing. Sort of. 

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“’Course. We’re roomies. We’ve got each other’s backs.” Jason waves him off as he plops down at the desk opposite Alex’s. He grins, and suddenly, that’s all Alex can see. “Right?” 

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It’s not like Alex could say ‘no’ to that expression even if he wanted to. “Right.” 

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“So, what’s this paper about?” 

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“Well, I was thinking about the way that corporations try to impersonate human voices within their Twitter feeds, which leads people into thinking they are part of a parasocial relationship with the company. It’s just a fascinating phenomenon, and really-” 

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Jason lets out a laugh, and Alex stops, feeling oddly self-conscious. Jason notices the change and shakes his head. “Not laughing at you, promise. It’s just, you’re so passionate about it all, you know?” 

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“Really?” Alex can’t help the way his chest puffs up at the compliment. 

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“And you start to sound like Adrianna when she’s learned something new in class. She can go on for hours about psychology, I swear. She gets so into it, it makes it fun for everybody.” Jason’s grin fades off into a softer smile as he gestures at Alex. “You get like that, too, sometimes.” 

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“Oh, well, thanks I guess.” 

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“Yeah, no prob. Never given a compliment that wasn’t true,” Jason accompanies his words with a snazzy wink that actually convinces a laugh out Alex. 

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“Thank you very much, then.” 

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“Hey, I know I interrupted and all, but that doesn’t mean you need to stop talking. Go on, tell me more about this company-Twitter-relationship thing.” 

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Alex looks at him straight on, trying to figure out if he’s actually being serious or not. Jason just smiles in the face of the scrutiny, so Alex begins again, hesitantly at first and slowly growing in confidence as Jason continues on smiling. Eventually, he starts chiming in with questions and comments (and jokes) of his own, and soon after that, Alex is speaking in infinitely tangled sentences, each one tripping over the next and forming a web of words that they both become too caught up in to care where it’s headed. 

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Jason is laughing in full force by the time Alex trips and tumbles to a temporary stop, mostly because he is laughing too much himself to continue. 

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“So that’s why you left the party early?” 

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“I puked all over Gil’s lawn. I think I might have even puked on someone,” Alex manages, embarrassment warring with amusement inside his mind, both mixing into a cocktail that makes him feel giddier than any actual alcohol has ever done. 

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“And all in front of their boyfriend?” 

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“Apparently.” 

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“Man, you’re crazy. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that drunk at a party.” 

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“I wouldn’t recommend it.” Alex pretends to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes, his chuckles slowly fading out as memories take their place. That night had been the one that had started it all. Started the doubting, the confusion, the worries that his plans for the future might not be as airtight as he had first thought. 

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“You know,” Jason begins, having sobered up as well. He almost looks serious, and when he meets Alex’s eye, his own eyes are like green wells of quiet emotion. “I think you’re going to do great here. I know you get worried about that – I know I was worried in my freshman year, too – but you shouldn’t. You just gotta learn to go with it, yeah? Trust yourself.” 

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Alex isn’t sure how to respond to that, so instead he chooses to take the silence that follows Jason’s statement to fully absorb his words. 

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“I just… I don’t want to throw away my shot at this, y’know?” he says at last, the words coming as a surprise even to him. 

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Suddenly, Jason’s eyes crinkle up, and his face floods with the emotion the wells had tried to keep from overflowing. “I know, man. But you’re not going to, not if you truly do what you want. You do things that make you passionate like writing about Twitter and corporations and stuff.” 

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That gets a chuckle out of Alex. “Maybe not that specifically. I’m not sure if there is a major for Twitter-corporation-stuff.” 

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“I’m sure you could make one up, and everyone would believe you just because you’re you,” Jason insists, that fragile openness painted across his face like the smearing strokes of Van Gogh. It makes Alex’s heart ache, for some reason that he is not yet ready to analyze. Maybe after he’s done sorting this crisis, he’ll get to that one. 

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“Thanks,” he says, a few seconds too late. He isn’t even sure what he is thanking his roommate for. For existing, he supposes, and for existing in a way that just so happens to correspond with his own existence. That, and all the compliments. 

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“Yeah,” Jason says, that always-present smile of his giving way into something greater. “Anytime.”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is so horrendously late! I have no excuses - this just took me a lot longer than I thought it would.
> 
> I spent many (a few) sleepless nights making sure this was a solid ending to a solid Act I, spending many (slightly more than a few) crazy hours outlining, writing, editing, and most importantly, drinking mulled wine. All told this chapter is 7,500 words, and I'm pretty darn proud of it, so hurrah for mostly happy endings. Even if I did have to listen to Non-Stop many (oh god, a lot more than a few) times more than is necessarily healthy.
> 
> Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed, happy holidays, and may you slide smoothly into the new year! I'll see you on the other side, folks. 
> 
> But until then, stay kind, stay safe, and stay radiant, you brilliant, star-flecked lads and/or blokes!


	25. What's Goin' On?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are quite a few misconceptions about the universe. Here are the top four: 
> 
> 1) It is always fair.  
> 2) It is always unfair.  
> 3) It always makes sense.  
> And 4) It is always creative.
> 
> I mean, geez. Who is *always* creative?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Act II. I hope you peed during intermission, because this one is going to be a wild ride.

Thomas Jefferson is not okay. 

On average, there are three reasons for this at any given moment. In this moment, there are eight. This moment also just so happens to correspond with his first moment back on King’s College campus, where he had spent two semesters before abandoning the crusty old bricks and boring lectures for ten weeks in the land of Oo-La-La, the place where dreams and love lurk (if anywhere), perhaps paradise on Earth… France. 

This decision is currently the second largest reason for his mental state. 

The first is staring him right in the face. 

“Francis! How are you? How was it? How have you been?” Charlie’s non-stop questions are usually a large part of why Thomas – formerly Francis, formerly Jefferson – appreciates his friend. They now have the honor of holding the #3 spot in the competition sweeping the nation: _Why Am I So Goddamn Stressed Out Right Now?_

__“It was, uh, fabulous, darling.”_ _

__Charlie can smell hesitation a mile away – he’s always had an excellent sense of smell – and his frown makes it clear to Thomas that he hasn’t done a good job of hiding his. Next, Charlie will smell his lies, then his fear, and then Charlie will ask, like he always does._ _

__If Charlie asks, it’ll be the end. Thomas knows everything will come rushing out of him, every thought he had on the flight back spilling out in an undignified outpour. He’ll make a scene, like he always does, and embarrass every version of himself in the process. He’ll be the talk of the town, and he’ll have to live another fourteen lives or so before he can live it._ _

__If only Thomas could just go back to being plain old Francis, and Charlie could go back to just being his partner against the maelstrom of life. If only France had never happened._ _

It’s ironic, really. _No, not ironic, _the dulcet tones of his too-many years of education inform him. Rather, it’s a terrible coincidence that his body’s birthname literally means “Frenchman.” Maybe he was always fated to take that thrice-damned trip. Maybe not. His destiny is far from set – in fact, it is more uncertain than it has ever been before, as now there is an important choice to be made that will define his path forward.__

__How to approach his lifelong friend? As a new man, or as a charade?_ _

___“How about some coffee, Charlie?” he asks. His tone is more confident. He’s had an idea. He can just keep pretending to be plain old Francis until he makes up his mind one way or another. He has always been good at façades, so frankly, this should be a cake walk._ _ _

___“Yeah, let’s do that. Although, I’m sure the coffee here is nothing like the coffee over there, huh?” Charlie’s grin has always been an enormous, infectious thing, and this time is no different. Thomas grins back, a little of his swagger returning to him._ _ _

___“You’re thinking of Italy, dear.”_ _ _

___“If you say so.” They begin walking in the direction of the Mocha of Tonight in unison, an unspoken agreement tying them together as it always has and hopefully always will, if Thomas has anything to say about it. “What’s different over there then, huh?”_ _ _

___Thomas ticks the items off on his fingers. “Better bread, better cheese, better wine. They’re just better at food and drink, I’m afraid.”_ _ _

___Charlie raises a pointed eyebrow. “You’re nineteen, Francis.”_ _ _

___“Which is above eighteen, which is France’s legal drinking age, Charlie dearest.”_ _ _

___“You lucky bastard.” Charlie shakes his head. They fall into silence. It is strangely awkward for the two of them. At long last, Charlie breaks it with a quiet-by-New-York-City standards, “What was it like?” His eyes are filled with an emotion that after fifteen years of friendship, Thomas has yet to understand completely._ _ _

“Quite a bit like the fairytales, if dirtier and more crowded. Plenty of romance in the air.” Thomas weighs his words carefully, and then concludes, “And _beautiful _.” This one is not an airy half-truth like the ones before it. This is a breath of a word, an awed attempt at a description of an experience that defies explanation.__

_____“I wish I could have gone with you,” Charlie replies. He doesn’t sound mopey or jealous. He’s just honest, as he (almost) always is._ _ _ _ _

___“You’ve done a good job of holding down the fort on this side of the ocean, though.”_ _ _

___Charlie shrugs. “Midterms went well. Mom has been on an upswing.”_ _ _

___“That’s fantastic, darling.” Thomas eyes his friend from the corner of his eye, trying to gauge his reactions. “And classes?”_ _ _

___Charlie begins to reply right as they pass by a construction crew digging into the concrete bones of the sidewalk. The racket is enough to force Thomas to yell, “Hm?” over the deafening mechanical chorus. Charlie just smiles and shakes his head. They both lapse into an uncomfortable ten seconds of silence (except for the aforementioned screaming jackhammers, that is) as they pass the crew. Thomas doesn’t think he’s ever been so uncomfortable around his friend before._ _ _

___Charlie starts up again as soon as they’ve got past, and Thomas restrains himself from screaming his thanks to the universe. “Anyway, as I was saying, they’re good. I got to take my first lighting-specific class this semester. That’s been fun. The Theatre department isn’t the same without you, though.”_ _ _

___Charlie’s joyous demeanor has sunken somewhat, and Thomas wishes he could do something, say anything, to buoy his spirits. Usually they would switch sides, one or the other taking up the mantel of enthusiasm depending on how the other is feeling. Now, it seems as though there is a rift, a split between them, and that mantel has been thrown down into it._ _ _

___“How’s Johnson?” Thomas says when the silence has become too much._ _ _

___“She’s good. She sends her well wishes.” Charlie is staring down at his feet, his lips trapped in a light smile as if he is a doll with a painted face. His head snaps up, and he fixes Thomas with one of his signature grins. Somehow, it doesn’t feel as genuine as before. “How were the classes over there? What did you learn, huh?”_ _ _

___Thomas bears with the change in subject about as smoothly as a fish walking on land for the first time. “Uh, uh, they were lovely. I learned quite a bit about Adamov, Mcnouchkine, the Theatre of the Absurd. Mostly theoretical, but we saw a few good shows as well, and I did a scene that was simply marvelous and…”_ _ _

They talk like this, exchanging stories and small talk like a pair on their first date ( _rather than like lifelong friends, as they should still be _) until they reach the Mocha of Tonight with its ebony exterior and imposing gold lettering. Thomas opens the door for Charlie, and by the time they’re both sitting with their caramel frappucino and hot cocoa respectively at one of the café’s sleekest counters, Thomas is really and truly fed-up with this game of play-pretend.__

_____“Charlie-” he begins, but he is interpreted by his friend’s most patient expression staring him down. He halts in his tracks. He can feel something is coming, and he wishes he were less afraid of it than he is._ _ _ _ _

___“What’s going on with you, Francis?”_ _ _

___“Jet lag is a bitch,” Thomas lies truthfully._ _ _

___“I mean it. What’s wrong, huh? What’s happening inside of your head?”_ _ _

___It’s moments like this when Thomas wishes his friend wasn’t able to read his every micro-expression. It’s also moments like this when Thomas’ Reasons for Anxiety double to a solid nineteen separate, swarming issues._ _ _

___“Can we talk about this later, hm? Love, I just got back, and-”_ _ _

“No.” Charlie always knows when to say everything, and when saying just one word will do. Thomas usually admires that about him ( _in truth, he still does _), but now of all moments, he wishes that single word didn’t have so much power over him.__

_____“All right, all right. You got me.” He puts his hands up in a mock-surrender, because he may be in a vulnerable state right now, but he has never, not once, lost his sense of humor. Today will not be an exception to that rule. “Something happened in France, something-”_ _ _ _ _

___The sound of Charlie’s phone ringing cuts through whatever Thomas was about to say as neatly as a knife through bread. Charlie looks about five seconds from throwing his phone out the window, but Thomas gestures for him to take the incoming call. They can always come back to this later. Or not at all. Either way._ _ _

___Charlie’s look indicates that the latter is not going to be an option, but he still picks up the phone and answers with a nearly undetectably annoyed, “Hello?” The person on the other end of the line says something, and his face contorts into a frown. He makes a move to leave his seat, but in the end just keeps sitting and listening intently. Thomas strains to make out the tinny muttering above the background hum of the coffee shop, but one of the reasons Charlie has such excellent senses – good smell, good hearing, good eyesight, he’s basically been blessed with all things worldly – is that he takes rigorous care of them all. Including lowering his phone volume to the point where only a dog’s ears could pick up on the vibrations._ _ _

___“Is that so?” Charlie finally replies. He is frowning even more now, and Thomas wishes he could wipe that look off his friend’s face. He settles for taking a swig of his friend’s cocoa in a twin effort to calm himself and spark a smile from Charlie. He almost succeeds, as Charlie turns to give him a knowing half-smile for a fraction of a second. The expression is quickly wiped away by something else the caller says to him._ _ _

___Thomas is feeling a strong need to punch this person in the face right about now. If only they had a face, instead of a quiet, sinister voice that whispers disturbing truths to Charlie while Thomas is left to sit around and wonder what exactly is going on with his friend._ _ _

Maybe this is supposed to be some sort of poetic justice from the universe. But… _nah _. Thomas doesn't believe the universe has a consciousness, and even if it did, it would probably be more creative with punishments than a phone call bearing bad news. That’s about as cliché as they come.__

_____Thomas is pulled from the vindictive cycle of his thoughts by Charlie uttering one last, “Okay, I got it,” before hanging up._ _ _ _ _

___In the future, Thomas will look back on this moment and wish he could say he then suavely asked his friend who he was talking to while pretending that he didn’t actually care about the answer. In fact, if asked, Thomas would use this version of events in a heartbeat and even have the gall to look proud about it._ _ _

___The truth, however, goes something a little more like this:_ _ _

___“Who was that?” Thomas demands, not at all hiding the fact that he is both worried for and infuriated by his friend. And that his count is up to thirty reasons._ _ _

___“I need some fresh air. Let’s go,” Charlie says. He proceeds to get up and leave without another word. He’s halfway out of the café before Thomas’ brain even catches up with him. Thomas’ legs aren’t so lucky, keeping him frozen in his seat until Charlie has actually left the café before finally propelling him after his friend._ _ _

___Thomas throws a tip into the jar without even looking at how much, ignores the “have a nice day” from the barista, and bursts out onto the street, struggling to keep up with his fast-walking friend. “Hey, Charlie sweetie, wanna explain what just happened back there?”_ _ _

___“You’re not the only one who can make split-second decisions,” Charlie says, a teasing glint in his eye as he looks over at Thomas. His pace, notably, doesn’t slow._ _ _

___“That improv saved the show, and you know it,” Thomas defends, before realizing what just happened. “Ooo, don’t you distract me. What was that? Who called you?”_ _ _

___“Just a friend. They just had some news.” Charlie’s grin is, as always, infectious, but it is starkly contrasted by the rest of his face being set in a determined cast of stone and his legs carrying him down the bustling street at a speed that would make even the fastest of jets envious. “And they wanted to meet up. If that’s okay with you?”_ _ _

“Sure. In future, could you perhaps _explain that _before storming out of a place as if the hounds of hell are chasing you down personally?”__

Thomas knows he’s being snotty, but it’s practically his default setting, especially when his scoreboard for _Why Am I So Goddamn Stressed Out Right Now? _has got fifty reasons on it. Besides, if Charlie doesn’t like it, he should have chosen to stay away from the new kid at school all those years ago. He's stuck with Francis- or, er, Thomas - now.__

__“I’ll try.” Charlie’s grin is still going strong. Thomas wonders if it really is painted on. “How was your frappucino?”_ _

Thomas looks mournfully at his empty hands and gives an ( _debatably _) overdramatic huff. “Sadly, missing in action. Thanks to you, I might add.”__

__“You might.”_ _

_____This is familiar, at least. This is normal. What’s changed? Was it him? Charlie?_ _ _ _ _

__

___“So, tell me more about your adventures in France, huh? Did you see the Arc de Triomphe?”_ _ _

__

Thomas flows easily with the topic change this time around, even as his mind lists off suspicious tells like it’s some sort of auctioneer. _Something’s _changed with Charlie, but whether it’s changed since Thomas left or since Charlie received the call, Thomas can’t be sure. And whether it’s for better or worse, well… only time will tell on that front.__

__

____

__

___But, for now, Thomas will take it because it means their banter is bouncing back and forth again, like it always has, and he is bumping into Charlie’s side as they head toward some mystery location with some mystery person, and for just a single moment, everything is okay again._ _ _

__

____

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this is late. I like to think of my Saturday system in the words of esteemed author Douglas Adams: "I love deadlines. I love the whooshing noise they make as they go by." Or, in other words, I will always update roughly on time, but never exactly when you think I am going to. Just to mix it up a bit. To spice things up. To make room for the wild, unpredictable bits of life.
> 
> You know, the things Andrew should be doing. You can see how well that's going.
> 
> In other news, Happy New Year, everybody! I won't be wishing anyone a happy 2021, because I think then the universe will hear me and decide to formulate some not-so-creative revenge of its own. I do hope that your New Year's Eve and Day were happy, though. To the world as we dream it to be, and to the world we live in now. Clink-clink.
> 
> Oh, and hey, I hope you've enjoyed these brand spankin' new characters - I can see now why Lin murdered and/or left behind a bunch of the cast in Act II. This is going to get a bit wackadoo. But nevertheless, I'm excited for where this story will go. I am also excited because I've now written four chapters that all end approximately with the message that maybe, finally, things are starting to become "okay" for our lovely heroes and villains, and the fact that I've then directly contradicted those inspiring messages in the following chapters should give away a lot about this story and the year we've lived through. Maybe it will all be okay in the end, but we have a long way to go before we get to that point. 
> 
> Just don't lose hope that we *will* get there. Until that day, stay healthy, stay hopeful, and stay radiant, you incredible beans! See you next week.


	26. A Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's good to be reliant on more than just one person in life. "The universe" decides to give this gift of lessened dependence to Charlie. For better or worse.

Charlie likes to think he hides his constant mess of nerves well. There’s a certain something about his grin when he catches it in a mirror that is edged with a crooked uncertainty, tipped with panic, but he likes to think it’s not that obvious. Not to anyone other than the odd, observant soul. 

Like Francis. 

Francis always saw him for who he was. A guy who smiled big and laughed loud while watching everything and everyone carefully from behind the two-way mirror of a smiley veneer. Always asking questions to discern others’ true motivations. Always defending himself against what he saw as potential threats on the playground and beyond. 

And Charlie saw Francis for who he was – a shy kid hiding behind the mask of a puffed-up know-it-all. It’s why they always got along, right from the start. They both saw each other for who they were and then allowed the other to go on playing the role like that was who they really were. Who knows. Make-believe is a powerful thing, and identity is shaped mostly by perception in the end. Maybe Charlie really is a huge-hugging, happy man, and Francis really is a flamboyant man who holds confidence in every word he speaks. Maybe. 

Then again, maybe not. Charlie is playing more than one part, after all, and that second one confuses him even more than the anxiety that has fringed his thoughts since he was a child. Long before he knew Francis, he was an obsessively meticulous child who tried to hide his fears in the closet. It was only after he knew Francis that he realized the origins of these obsessions may be more rooted within him than he had first thought. That maybe he had more to hide from his best friend than he had first thought. 

It’s been a game, ever since then. How many times can he hint at things in a sentence without Francis picking up on them? How far can he go with the enigmatic wizard routine, how many vague riddles can he give, before Francis figures out this new mask, and they can start again with their introductions? They were only seven the first time. They could do with some reminding. 

It had almost been fun, just one more game, one more war of words, between the friends. But then, he’d gone too far, played his hand a little too well, and suggested France when Francis had started talking about study abroad options. A bit on the nose, especially given Francis’ name, he thought, but suddenly that was all Francis could talk about. Paris, this, and French ladies, that. Oh, what would it all look like at night, Charlie? What about the river, how is that going to be, Charlie? What’d ya think, Charlie? Should I do it? 

And because Charlie wasn’t just James Madison – he is so much more than that, has always been so much more than that because he’s always had Francis around, his grounding anchor there to make him feel like his own person rather than an imitation – he said ‘yes.’ And then he lost his best friend for ten weeks, and that was okay on its own because they always said their friendship could weather anything. But then Francis had come back not acting like Francis, and his hackles were already raised by some instinct whispering _this is wrong _.__

__And then she had called._ _

____

They don’t know a lot about each other. She doesn’t know him like Francis does, and he never even met her in their other lives. They are both a friend-of-a-friend, awkward acquaintances joined together by circumstance, but they did get along in the weeks where Charlie had no one else around to ground him. She understands what it is to be this way, and he understands what it is to know that previous lives aren’t always all they are cracked up to be. That sometimes the best thing to do is move on and become more than before – not by avoiding it but by accepting it. 

____

Even with this shared zen mindset, he knows he can’t compare to her when it comes to staying calm. She is the chiller out of the two of them. Perhaps even the chillest out of anyone he’s ever met. While he hides his fractured mess of feelings inside his mind, she either doesn’t have one or doesn’t allow it to trouble her. She simply is, and she is mostly okay with that. 

____

So, for her to call him the way she did, with mild concern in her tone and words of foreboding on her lips – he simply had to agree to a meeting with her. It’s just a shame that he let his panic blind him, because not only has he got Francis suspicious of him now, he also forgot to end his best friend reunion somewhere along the line. And now, they are getting dangerously close to the agreed-upon rendezvous spot, and Charlie still hasn’t told Francis this is a private matter, can’t tell, because that would mean keeping something from his best friend. Some instinctual part of himself still won’t let him do that, despite everything. It’s not even as if he doesn’t think Francis could stomach his other life – he has only the tiniest amount of doubt that his friend would accept him with open arms. 

____

It’s just… Francis is the only one. The only one in his life who doesn’t know, who hasn’t offered sympathies like his mother or stern warnings like his father or threats of insane asylum lockups like his brother, and he needs that in his life. It may be selfish to ask such an important person to him to not know something about himself, but it’s what he’s chosen, and he thinks Francis would respect that if he knew. 

____

Then again, he has an opportunity to find out now, as they draw closer and closer to the classroom where she asked to meet. He wonders why she chose this place. He’s never even been to the Lisbon Building, never had any reason to, much less heard anything about Classroom 204 as some special meeting ground. Perhaps it’s an area she personally has an attachment to. Frankly, it’s best not to question Lin on the best of days, and today is certainly not one of those. 

____

“Hey, Francis,” he starts, fully aware that he looks suspicious as all hell with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his tone undulating all over the place like a snake, but unable to control his tells otherwise. 

____

“Mm?” Francis enquires, his eyes fixed on his feet as they both stride through the tiled hallways. Not much farther to go. Maybe Charlie can lose him by opting to use the stairs – Francis hates stairs. He says they’re “an even more breathless way to get high.” 

____

Francis always has had a way with words. 

____

“This is kind of…” he pauses, considering his next words carefully, “… a personal thing. If you don’t mind.” 

____

“Oh.” Francis looks a little crestfallen, and Charlie can see why. He had felt it, too. For a minute or ten there, it had felt like old times again. Just them talking and being with the other again. Unfortunately, duty is calling, and duty told him that something big was going on that he needed to know about. Duty is very hard to resist, but now Charlie finds himself truly wanting to. 

____

“Just for a bit. We can meet up again afterward.” He’s still walking, why is he still walking? He’s just marching on, unable to stop and properly say goodbye, and now they’re taking the stairs whether Francis likes it or not. The sound of their footsteps slaps around the walls in concrete-muffled echoes, and Charlie supposes it’s fine. It’s not as if he wants to keep his friendship with Lin a secret, anything but that. They don’t have secrets. Or, at least, not more than one, big secret. 

____

Yet, he had been hoping he could stall a meeting between Lin and Francis for a while yet. He doesn’t want her to start poking and prying into things that aren’t hers to meddle with. That aren’t anyone’s. 

____

“You know I’ll hold you to that, don’t you, darling,” Francis says. It’s not even a question, it never is with Francis. Good ol’ Francis. Charlie can’t help but smile, big and wide, at him. Francis smiles back. He seems to understand. Just in time, too, as they pull up outside of the classroom in question. 

____

“This is my stop,” he says. Then, after a beat, “It’s good to have you back, Francis.” 

____

Francis smiles back. “Good to be back. See you soon.” He raises an eyebrow, a question and a dare all in one. Charlie just nods. 

____

“See you.” He opens the door and suddenly finds himself stepping into a warzone. 

____

“I’m not saying you’re a hypocrite, I’m just saying that plenty of people have fought for things they themselves go against!” 

____

“Pot, kettle?” 

____

Charlie’s mind tries to take it all in, but doing so would require a level of brain function that not many possess. What he does get are a few base impressions. 

____

First is a kid with ruffled brown hair and a vendetta against something staring down a woman with rippling hair and nice shoes. They don’t look like they’re having an argument, per say, but it doesn’t look quite like a friendly conversation either. 

____

To the side of the classroom, leaning against a wall, a man with haunted eyes and a fedora watches on with a hand pressed to his forehead, as if to stave off a headache. Watching the chaos unfold from the vantage point of the teacher’s desk is an older woman with cutting blue eyes and a peaceful smile. And in the role of the audience, with her feet propped up on a desk and her mouth full of gum, is the woman he is supposed to be meeting here. 

____

There are two main problems that result from the situation unfolding in front of him. 

____

1) While he technically only recognizes one person here, there is something not quite right about the rest of them. Everyone in the room is giving him an eerily familiar vibe, like he has seen them in a dream or has a half-baked memory of them from somewhere obscure. Passed them on the street, seen them in an ad, that sort of thing. This is decidedly Not Good. Not in his experience, at least. 

____

2) Like a complete fool, he forgot to make sure Francis had actually walked away before he opened the door, and now his best friend is gazing into the classroom from over his shoulder, his eyes alight like he’s just seen Christmas being unpacked from its boxes and now he is set on getting his advent gift _right this second _.__

______ _ _

“What is this? You got yourself a club in your spare time, dear?” Francis asks, awed. Then, he adds as a stinging afterthought, “You didn’t mention this.” 

______ _ _

Charlie’s gut clenches, although he can’t pinpoint exactly why. Something is just wrong here. “That’s because I didn’t know about it. My friend just gave a time and place, not an explanation of what I’d be walking into.” Is this what Lin was worried about? If so, why is she letting it all play out before her? Why does she seem so unfazed in general? “Don’t worry about it. You should-” 

______ _ _

“Hey!” Damn. Lin has noticed them, hanging through the doorway like the pair of imbeciles they are. And since she has all but called out their presence from the rooftops, everyone else has noticed them as well. The arguing kid and woman freeze mid-motion. The kid cocks his head at them. The woman takes one look at their faces and then turns to Lin with a question upon her lips that she never gets the chance to ask. 

______ _ _

“Charlie! Come in, come in.” Lin beckons him forward, and Charlie enters the room as if enthralled. Soon, he is facing down this group of distinctly weird people. The man to the side looks like he wants to throw up or become one with the wall. Charlie can understand the urge. The woman at the desk looks as if she’s in on some very funny secret. Charlie doesn’t understand that as much. 

______ _ _

Lin continues, unbothered by any of their reactions. “Charlie, everybody. Everybody, Charlie. He’s a friend of mine.” 

______ _ _

Francis makes a sound in the background. Charlie tries to ignore him. 

______ _ _

“I told him it’d be okay to stop by, to check it out. If that’s okay…” Something in her eyes seems to be implying that it would in fact not be okay to turn Charlie away right now. Charlie isn’t sure he agrees with this notion, as one second he was being called to discuss “something bad” and now it’s looking like he’s walked right into something bad, set up by Lin herself. 

______ _ _

“Of course,” the older woman at the desk rises to her feet swiftly, coming over in a rush of comfortable plaid and smiling eyes. “Debate Club is always open for new members. We seek them out, in fact.” 

______ _ _

“Debate Club?” Francis takes a step forward into the room at that. Charlie flashes him a look, and he shrugs, responding to the silent question with a far-too-cheery, “You know how much I love debate, dear.” 

______ _ _

“Well, hey, we’re super into that, too,” the kid speaks up. As if to prove his enthusiasm, he bounds forward and sticks out a hand to Francis. Charlie doesn’t intervene, although something deep in his gut _really _wants him to. “I’m Alex.”__

________ _ _ _ _

Oh. That’d be why. 

________ _ _ _ _

Charlie finds himself making eye contact with the man to the side. Charlie isn’t sure quite what passes between them, but it’s definitely something. At the very least, mutual understanding of how uncomfortable this whole situation is. Their moment of communion is brought to a speedy conclusion as Alex’s face blocks his view. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Alex,” he grins, hand proffered. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Charlie. Friend of Lin,” he gestures to Lin. She blows a bubble and waves. “… and Francis over there.” He gestures to his increasingly enthused friend. He doesn’t shake Alex’s hand, not that the kid seems to even notice. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Cool. We were just, uh, in the middle of a debate.” 

________ _ _ _ _

“More like an argument about who is more wrong about _everything _,” the man to the side chips in. Alex’s cheeks color slightly. With that, the man seems finally decide to abandon his post, and he pushes himself off the wall. He approaches slowly, considering. Charlie decides he likes him.__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I’m Andrew,” the man extends a hand, and Charlie shakes it. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Pleasure’s all ours. This is amazing. I can’t believe I didn’t know we had a Debate Club here!” Francis is saying, his eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail. Charlie can’t stop the smile from blooming on his face in response to his friend’s excitement. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“All this time,” Francis sighs, his gaze returning to the motley crew in front of him. He looks to Alex. “Are you in charge around here?” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

The arguing woman speaks up at last, “No, although I’m sure his ego would like that. I’m Adrianna, by the way. Professor Mayhill is in control, as much as anyone is around here.” 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Organized chaos,” the older woman, clearly Professor Mayhill, chimes in. She has a knowing smile on her face. Charlie isn’t sure what to make of her, so he settles on a smile in return and leaves it at that. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Fantastic,” Francis breathes, “Where can we sign up?”

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession time: I'm quite proud of that weed joke, even though by all rights, I truly shouldn't be. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed! This was quite fun to write. Honestly, when I first started mulling the prospect of this whole reincarnation dealio and its repercussions, I didn't fully realize how absolutely, delightfully teasing you can be to the poor, suffering characters. You gotta love it.
> 
> Until next time, stay safe, stay hopeful, and stay ridiculous, you coo-coo bananas!


	27. To The Sticking Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just two guys being pals. As usual.

It doesn’t take long after Debate Club ends for Alex to pounce on Andy. “What’d you think?” 

“Hm?” 

“You know.” At Andy’s blank look, Alex sighs in as exaggerated way as he physically can and clarifies, “About the new people. What’d you think of them?” 

“Oh. Well, they were certainly… interesting.” Andy shifts his backpack’s weight on his shoulders and doesn’t meet Alex’s eyes. Alex could sense his awkwardness a mile away, but Andy’s just like this sometimes. Alex has learned not to ask. 

“Yeah. ‘Specially that France guy.” 

“Francis,” Andy corrects. 

“Right, right. But, I don’t know, what was he like? How was he at-” 

“Arguing?” Andy fills in. 

Alex frowns. “It’s called debating, Andy.” 

“Whatever you say.” Andy finally makes eye contact and gives a purposeful shrug. It holds quite a few possible meanings in its casual depths; some that Alex thinks would take a lifetime to dissect, and some that he doesn’t need much more than a single puff on his imaginary pipe to figure out. “He was all right.” 

“And how was I?” 

“Top of your game.” It’s said like a joke, but Alex knows sincerity when he hears it. Particularly when it comes from Andy, as it comes in such infrequent yet memorable spurts. 

“Good to know. Thanks.” He tries to pretend to not be as ridiculously pleased as he is and fails miserably at it. They walk for a few moments in silence before Alex becomes uncomfortable with the emptiness. It only allows his thoughts more time to swirl, to collect behind his eyelids. Just like they always do whenever he isn’t busy, isn’t thinking about something else, isn’t _distracting _himself. It’s as infuriating as it is telling.__

__“And the other guy?”_ _

__“Who – Charlie?”_ _

__“Yeah, him.”_ _

__Andy nods, almost absentmindedly. “Yes. Yes, he is interesting.”_ _

__Alex raises an eyebrow. “Is he?”_ _

__“Yes.” Andy flashes him a glance, one that Alex couldn’t even interpret if he lived forever. “He reminds me a little of myself, if I’m being honest.”_ _

__“Ooo, okay.” Alex grins, teasing words already on his tongue before Andy can get anything else out, “Do you think you can be a mentor to this Charlie person, then? Guide him where you went wrong?”_ _

__Andy responds with a look Alex knows all too well. “No. I just meant that he… vibrates at a similar frequency within the universe.”_ _

__“Are you saying you ‘vibe with him’, Andy? That’s the closest I’ve heard to teenage slang from you, I gotta admit.” Alex pushes into his friend’s side, and Andy gives a huffy push back._ _

__“Cute,” is all he replies with._ _

__“I am.”_ _

__“You think you are,” Andy corrects, and Alex snorts. Witty as always. It takes Alex a full beat to whip up a severe enough façade to hit back._ _

__“So, Mr. Ron. You find yourself vibrating on the same plane of cosmic threads, then?” he asks, austere thoughtfulness coating his tone._ _

__This time Andy is the one masking a laugh with an exhale of breath. “Very funny,” he comments._ _

__“I know.”_ _

__Andy doesn’t bother countering him, this go around. He responds to the earlier question instead with a mild, “I do, actually. It’s an odd experience, but not one I am unaccustomed to, on occasion.”_ _

__“Did you, per say, read too much Wilde in your childhood, or is this how you think everyone speaks in their own lives, at their own leisure?” Alex enquires, still overenunciating everything as if his life depends on it._ _

__“You laugh, but this sort of language used to be all the rage back in the day.”_ _

__“Oh, yeah, in the seventeenth century maybe,” Alex laughs, but it only gets Andy to avert his gaze again. Always with the averted gazes, Andy, and always at the strangest of things._ _

“Anyways,” Andy deflects, with a clearing of his throat, “what did _you _think of them?”__

_____“They were okay, I guess. A little off-kilter, especially that Charlie guy, but I suppose that’s why you two got along, right?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Andy doesn’t seem to receive it as one. His eyes are still fixed straight ahead, on their ever-evolving destination of Nowhere in Particular._ _ _ _ _

___“Right,” Andy says. His voice is flat._ _ _

___“Yeah. Yeah, anyhow, they seemed nice enough. And that Francis guy gave me a run for my money in that bit on French government, so that’s a point in their favor, even if I hated it.”_ _ _

___Andy hums, his attention still distant._ _ _

Alex plays his last card in this game of _help, help, get him back to normal _. “I think they’d be a good fit for the club, don’t you? Not that it’s my choice, but yeah. It’d be cool. Right?”__

_____Andy seems to snap back to himself, and he turns to nod at Alex as if nothing had ever happened. As always. “Of course. Yes, I think they’re most assuredly the right sort of people for our ragtag little crew.”_ _ _ _ _

___“You got that right.” The smile dies off on Alex’s lips much quicker than he expected, but he forces it to stay on. “You got studying to do after this?”_ _ _

___“Nothing too pressing.”_ _ _

___“How come?” Alex doesn’t mean for it to come out as accusatory as it does, but it’s getting a little ridiculous. Every day, he is rushing to keep up, and yet it always feels like he is a step behind. But Andy – Andy is always on top of it. Always in control. Alex envies him, even if he knows Andy doesn’t live the perfect life by any stretch of the imagination._ _ _

___Andy gives Alex a pointed Look. “I tend to work best at nights. That’s all. It’s not like I’m some superhuman.”_ _ _

___“Don’t do that.” Alex pulls his tan cardigan closer to himself. “Don’t read my mind.”_ _ _

___“I’m just as psychic as Adrianna is, Alex.”_ _ _

___“Yeah, wha’ever. I don’t like it.”_ _ _

Andy sighs, long-suffering and with a certain hint of his everyday annoyance about it once again. Alex breathes an internal sigh of relief. Mission _Restore Andy to Factory Settings _accomplished. Andy continues, “Stop making it so easy, then. It’s almost trivial to know what you’re thinking.”__

_____“Hey!” Alex protests, feeling somehow as if he has been insulted even if he isn’t quite sure how._ _ _ _ _

___“Don’t fret. I just said it was simple to read you, not that it was simple to know how to deal with you. Then, you’d have problems.”_ _ _

___“Oi!” This time, Alex knows exactly how he has been insulted, and he responds in kind by chasing after Andy with a stray notebook held high in the air in threatening fashion._ _ _

___Just a regular Tuesday for the two of them._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I've missed writing just Andrew + Alex interactions. Good times. Well, I hope you all enjoyed this little snippet of warm, friendly times! No matter how gloom may overshadow much of our lives, the little moments of contentment are always so much more important than we give them credit for.
> 
> Super huge apologies that this is so late - unfortunately, I had a massive bout of allergies last night, and I couldn't see past my pillow. On the plus side, I got 11 and a half hours of sleep last night. On the negative side, I think that's my all-time peak for life, but that's fine.
> 
> Have a lovely week, friendaloons, and stay healthy, stay safe, and stay radiant! Oh, and happy almost Inauguration. I look forward to seeing you all in a brave(ish), new(ish) world when next we meet.


	28. Fuuuu-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan watches an Interesting conversation play out before her, and it's almost enough to make her forget how busy she is.

“Steven!” Morgan calls, popping a bubble as she roughly deposits the paper cup onto the counter. “And how can I help ya, Madam?” She directs the question at her next customer, a woman with flowing chocolate locks and a cheeky smile that Morgan wants to keep in a bottle for bad days. 

__“Mocha latte, please, Morgan.” Adrianna smiles around the words. “How are you?”_ _

__“Fine as can be. With finals coming up, everyone’s all about the hustle.” Morgan nods to Steven as he comes clanking up. The eccentric array of gizmos attached to his belt and his leather jacket go from choir to cacophony when he grabs his coffee with an appreciative smile._ _

__“I can understand the feeling.” Adrianna moves off to the side of the queue as Morgan takes the next person’s order (Yasmin, Minty Goodness, not too much peppermint, it upsets my stomach in large amounts) and keeps on preparing Adrianna’s. “It has been a bit of an overwhelming semester.”_ _

__“Yea?” Morgan enquires as she hands over Adrianna’s coffee and sets to work on Yasmin’s._ _

__“Nothing too bad. Just… quite a few odd things have happened, in the last few weeks especially,” Adrianna continues. Her eyes are fixed on the street outside, on all the people rushing by to get to something or other, but her presence remains with Morgan all the same. She’s always like this when you get her talking – that, or full of piercing focus, depending on what the conversation calls for._ _

__“Oh?” Morgan prompts._ _

__“Mhm,” Adrianna replies absently. She doesn’t clarify this point, so Morgan drops it, hands off the peppermint latte to the anxiously shuffling Yasmin, and turns to see her second favorite regular across the counter from her._ _

__“Andy, how’s life?” Morgan asks._ _

__She notices out of the corner of her eye Adrianna jolt from her reverie and turn her attention onto Andy with bright, watchful eyes. Morgan thinks she remembers them hanging out a few weeks ago, with Adrianna’s little circle of friends and that strange kid with the bouncing legs and terrifying eyes. The one that Andy is always following around like a lost little puppy dog._ _

__“You know, you’re one of two people who calls me that in this entire city,” Andy comments, his words rough but his tone mild. Good ol’ Andy. “One starts to wonder if it’s all a conspiracy.”_ _

__“Ooo, yes. You do love a good conspiracy, don’t you, Andy?” Adrianna jabs. Morgan takes note, although she pretends pretty well like she hasn’t. These two obviously have history – the real question is whether it’s a good thing or not. Morgan isn’t the protective sort, doesn’t really go in for traditional romance tropes much as a rule, but if Andy needs to be demoted on her list of favorite regulars…_ _

__“I don’t enjoy it so much as attract it,” Andy replies, the picture of wry weariness. Perhaps he won’t be getting spit in his coffee, after all. “Or did you not take notice of the people who joined the Debate Club last week?”_ _

__“Oh, I noticed them all right.” Adrianna’s eyes drift back to the street, hazy with gears turning just below those pupils. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”_ _

__They’re kind of interesting to watch, like tennis or a pigeon street fight. Morgan hands Andy his cup of strong, black bean juice, spit-free._ _

__“I believe so. I’m just not sure what to do with this information.”_ _

__“Are you planning to invite them to your little club?”_ _

__They are having this conversation just shy of where the line is racking up. Morgan plays the part of the ever-present but unseen barista going about her job, even as she keeps one ear and one eye on the unfolding spectacle. Maybe she and Adrianna are only a fling, but these guys are in a public place. They're basically begging for a little snooping._ _

__“As I said, I haven’t figured it out. If they are who I think they are, then inviting them could cause some… volatile reactions with certain people. Not to mention, I have no idea who you’ve invited.” Andy looks like he wants to wriggle out of his own skin. Morgan covers her sigh with the sound of the espresso machine (Nicole, Double C, splash of almond milk). This guy needs to seriously consider going to therapy or somethin’._ _

__“I haven’t.”_ _

__“What?” Andy looks up in the middle of taking a sip, narrowly avoiding a spit take._ _

__“I haven’t invited them yet. I’m still waiting to see how this whole thing pans out, with the professor and all.” Adrianna crosses her arms, and Morgan’s hackles would be raised on her behalf if it wasn’t for the morning rush kicking her ass and forcing her to simultaneously shove Nicole her cup and take the next order (Omar, Strawberry Fields, it's just so good). “How is that going by the way?”_ _

__“Well. I haven’t got a chance to ask her, but I will. Soon.”_ _

__“Good to know. Anyway, I don’t know about those two – we don’t even know if they remember anything yet.”_ _

__“A fair point.”_ _

__Omar’s cup is handed over, and Olive’s order is taken (Creamy Ice). A rhythm is established, somewhere between thought and instinct._ _

__“But I do know,” Adrianna continues, “that my invitee wouldn’t mind their company much. They might even be friends in this life, again.”_ _

__“Well, now you’ve piqued my interest.” Andy raises one of those expressive eyebrows of his. He’s got to practice in the mirror in his free time. “Who is this mystery person? Do I know them?”_ _

__“You’ve met them at least once.”_ _

__“Which time?”_ _

__“This one. They’re my friend, and you’ve met all my friends, remember?”_ _

There’s a rhythm to their conversation as well. It’s not an easy dynamic. Even if Morgan didn’t have her suspicions about Andy, she wouldn’t think much of it – but there is _something _there. Not any lingering sexual tension; they barely even seem like friends. Nah, what they have is something different, something new. Something Morgan doesn’t know if she can understand.__

_____“Ah, yes. Speaking of which,” Andy turns back to Morgan. “I never answered your question, which was rude of me. I am well. How are you?”_ _ _ _ _

___Adrianna rolls her eyes behind Andy’s back. Morgan tries to ignore it as she replies, “Yea, fine.”_ _ _

___That gets a reaction out of Adrianna. “Hang on, do you two actually know each other?” Her gaze darts between them._ _ _

___“Yes, we’re…” Andy frowns. His gaze flickers to Morgan. It’s a cry for help that could be heard right across the city._ _ _

___“We know each other, yea,” Morgan fills in. Andy breathes out. He’s either relieved or disappointed – Morgan can’t tell the difference on that stoic face of his._ _ _

"Huh.” If Morgan isn’t wrong, and she rarely is, there’s hesitation in the creases of Adrianna’s face. Maybe even some suspicion. She doesn’t know what it’s directed at, but she decides to let that slip to the side for now. She has more important things to focus on, like how either Andy’s awkward posture is scaring away her customers or her breakfast line has finally dried up. Either way, she heaves a sigh of relief and props herself up on her elbows on the counter, leaning toward her two favorite regulars. 

___“So, whatcha two been up to?” she asks, blowing another bubble and popping it loudly just to get a reaction out of Andy. It works, of course. It’s too easy._ _ _

They exchange a glance. Ooo, this is definitely _something _. Weird.__

_____“Studying,” Andy stammers out at last._ _ _ _ _

___“Forming clubs,” Adrianna says with a jab of the elbow into Andy’s side._ _ _

___“Generally living our lives as freely as we can, per your suggestion,” Andy finishes._ _ _

___“Good for ya.” Another person stands before the counter, and Morgan drags her loosely-held-up body back into action. No rest for the wicked. (Otto, The Best Thing You'll Ever Drink, loads of extra cinnamon please.)_ _ _

___“Listen, it was nice to catch up with you,” Adrianna directs this at Andy, “- and it is nice to talk to you, no matter how brief,” this she says to Morgan, which gets a smile out of the tired barista, “- but I have to run now. Thank you both.”_ _ _

___“Anytime,” Morgan says._ _ _

___“Ah. Right. Goodbye,” Andy manages._ _ _

___Just as quickly as she’s come, Adrianna is gone, and it’s just the two of them. Andy takes one look at the line beginning to once again form before the register, and he bobs his head, an apologetic smile on his lips._ _ _

___“Good to see you, Morgan. Hope we can talk again soon.”_ _ _

___“I’m always here if you need a listening ear.” She winks. He goes for a friendly expression, although it’s not clear exactly what sort of friendly expression he was going for as it doesn’t quite come off. She hands Otto their coffee._ _ _

___“Goodbye.” Andy dodges out, allowing the crowds to consume him. Morgan watches him go, then turns her attention to the screaming machine in front of her. Her work is never done._ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many apologies that this is again late! One day I'll hit that deadline spot on, and on that day, the apocalypse begins.
> 
> Also, in case anyone was curious: 
> 
> Minty Goodness - peppermint flavored latte  
> Double C - caramel flavored cappuccino (alternately called the 'Crappy Cappy Caramel' by Morgan herself, but her manager wouldn't let her write that on the board)  
> Strawberry Fields - strawberry flavored frappucino  
> Creamy Ice - iced coffee with one cream  
> The Best Thing You'll Ever Drink - double shot cinnamon hazelnut flavored espresso (I make this sometimes myself, and it is incredible)
> 
> Also, there's a little surprise for anyone who pays attention to the names of all Morgan's customers. ;) See you next time, and until then, stay safe, stay free, and stay radiant, you sprouting saplings!


	29. All He Had To Do Was Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's big reveal has finally come - but will it go how he has planned? (Hint: Probably not.)

“Are we all here, then?” 

This is it. It has been a long time coming, and the fact that it is sliding right under the sinking door of finals is no deterrent for Andrew A. Ron. He had to make this happen, so he did. 

It took a while longer than he expected, sure. After weeks of talking to professors about rooms and times and getting head shakes from every one, he’d finally approached Professor Mayhill. And now, here they are. All sat around a circular table positioned in the middle of Classroom 206, with Adrianna next to Andrew, her special guest on her other side, and Mayhill across the table from all of them. 

Professor Mayhill hasn’t said much throughout this entire process – not even when Andrew first proposed his club plan to her – but the upside to that is she didn’t once question the peculiar nature of his club, only set it all up with a smile. It’s still not quite clear to Andrew what her play is here, but he is currently trying not to think on it too hard. 

“Seems like,” Adrianna mutters in response to his question. Her usual brazen and bold style is somewhat subdued in this setting, particularly now that they are all trapped under the loudly blowing AC and inside these white-washed walls with each other. 

“Should we…” the special guest starts (who is none other than Gil, to Andrew’s continuing surprise), but they trail off again after a moment. Their meaning is still clear enough. 

“Uh, yes, I’ll start,” Andrew says, “I’m-” 

“Why don’t I start?” Adrianna interrupts. 

She is shooting him a Look that, while appreciated, is ultimately necessary. Andrew knows exactly how horrible this situation is already. He created it. He thought it would bring them all a spot of sanity beyond the snuck-in conversations between classes, but now that he’s actually here… No. He can’t start doubting himself now. He has to go through with it, or else he’s hesitating just like before. He had promised. 

“No. Thank you, Adrianna. Might as well put everything out on the table.” He turns to Gil, the only person he suspects does not already understand the nature of his identity yet. “Hello. I’m Andrew A. Ron. I’m 19, a freshman here, and I was Aaron Burr in a former life.” 

Saying it like that, just like that, is simultaneously the most freeing and most horrendous thing he thinks he’s ever done. He swallows down his regret as Gil’s eyes widen. 

“Ah,” is all they vocalize. 

Andrew winces. The chair creaks under him as he crosses his legs and folds as casually as he can in on himself. 

“Great. Well, I’ll go next then,” Adrianna says. Her eyes are very pointedly not landing on Andrew. “Good afternoon. I’m Adrianna Johnson, formerly Angelica Schuyler, and I am a psychology major.” She doesn’t look particularly happy about any of it. 

To their credit, Gil seems to at least take this strangeness of this situation in stride. “Yes, hello. My full name is Gillis Viklund. I immigrated here from Sweden, and I was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de La Fayette in my other life.” 

Andrew blinks. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard that all out loud before. Adrianna just nods and smiles at her friend. Mayhill looks vaguely pleased about something. 

Speaking of Mayhill, all eyes now turn on her, but she puts her hands up while continuing to smile in an amiable sort of way. “I’m just here to supervise. You kids do all the talking.” 

Attention slides back off her like water off a duck, no questions asked, and they are back to staring at each other from across the great plastic chasm of the table. 

“Right,” Andrew begins, feeling as though he is treading out onto a thin sheet of ice that could break at any second, “So, welcome to the We Know Club, everyone. It is truly a pleasure to see you all gathered here together, and to truly meet you.” He nods to Gil. “As we all know, we are different people than we once were, but that doesn’t mean we can’t acknowledge the elephant in the room-” 

“That you shot my friend?” 

It’s flat, affectless. Gil doesn’t even have to gall to look angry; they just seem matter-of-fact. Andrew swallows again, although it does nothing to cure the dryness of his mouth or the burning in his throat. 

“Yes. That. And, well, all of it,” he manages, barely. Adrianna gives him a glance so loaded with pity that he wonders how it does not collapse under its own sorrowful weight. 

“I think everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you, Lafayette?” It’s Mayhill who speaks up, which piques Andrew’s attention more than anything else. Her face is stern, but her eyes are kind as she stares Gil down. 

“If we didn’t, why would we be here.” The way Adrianna says it almost sounds like she meant it to be a joke, but Andrew isn’t sure he can find it in himself to laugh. It gets Gil to crack a smile, though, and they all settle into a not-completely-unbearable silence. 

“What sort of topics did you want to discuss, Andy dear?” Mayhill turns on Andrew, and although the majority of his brain is possessed by sudden panic at the lack of answers this question is turning up ( _Surely he had a plan? He must have. He’s gotten them all here together, he has a next step, right? _), there is a small part that spends a moment of effort to add one more to the count of those who are making good use of his rapidly popularizing nickname.__

____

“Yes, well, I wanted to start us out easy, seeing as it’s our first meeting here with each other. Perhaps we could go around and describe, ehm,” Andrew falters. His eyes keep sliding to Gil’s blank face, to Adrianna’s gentle frown, to Mayhill’s icy blue eyes, and he has to force himself to continue despite everything inside of himself whispering, Run. 

____

“Describe the technological advances we were most impressed by, now that we have memories of what we used to live with,” he blurts, almost entirely on instinct. Mayhill smiles, full and bright. Adrianna’s eyebrows go up. Gil remains stone-faced. As far as reactions go, not the worst. Not the best either, but who’s counting. 

____

“I’ll go first,” Adrianna says, and this time Andrew gladly lets her, sitting back and trying not to fall apart in front of the others. “I think I am most impressed by the innovations within the health sector, especially with mental health and…” 

____

They continue like this for a while, one after the other. It’s not easy. It’s not even therapeutic as Andrew had hoped. What he had hoped for was good ol’ fashioned comradery, a taste of the olden times, back when there was a war on the horizon that hadn’t yet arrived and the pub was a warm, safe place to be. What he actually is getting is something a little more disjointed, a little more broken, a little more _them _if he is being honest with himself.__

____

__Gil doesn’t make eye contact often. From the few memories Andrew has of Lafayette, he never seemed much the bitter, brooding sort. He told you what he thought, and he left it at that._ _

____

__It’s good to know some things never change._ _

____

__For her part, Adrianna is steadily becoming more open. It feels like the farther Andrew sinks into his chair, away from the haunting gaze of Gil, the more she takes up the reins and is running with them. He watches on as she steers the conversation with a deft hand onto matters like post-remembrance familial tensions and essentially all the oddities that come with holding two lives worth of memories within one’s head._ _

____

__She’s good at this. Very good. He can understand now why she was a big figure on the New York socialite scene and why she made so many important friends during her previous lifetime. She has a knack for speech that cannot be dismissed nor surpassed. It’s frankly impressive. It’s just as well, too, because Andrew isn’t sure he could command his vocal chords to manage much more than curt answers and simple pleasantries at this point._ _

____

__It’s about half an hour into their discussion, while they’re on the topic of relationships and friendships, that it finally happens. Gil even gives Andrew a bit of a warning as they eye him with a certain gleam in their eyes, before leaning across the table toward him._ _

____

__“Do you know where Hamilton is?” they ask. There doesn’t even seem to be a trace of doubt in their voice that Hamilton would be alive again. Of course. Hamilton was the man who always wanted more time. It would only make sense. It was supposed to make sense. But if there is one thing that Andrew knows right to his core, it’s that life is supremely messy nearly to the point of absurdity._ _

____

__“I-” he cuts himself off, flashing a Look of his own to Adrianna. She gives him a nod, and he continues, “Yes. And no.”_ _

____

__“Straight to the point, Burr.”_ _

____

__Andrew does an admirable job of restraining his wince. “Yes, well, Adrianna and I, er, we think that he is in the body of Alex-”_ _

____

__Gil snorts at that. “Ah.”_ _

____

__“But he doesn’t seem very interested in being anything other than Alex,” Andrew finishes. That gets a raised eyebrow._ _

____

__“What do you mean?” Gil asks at length. Mayhill watches on, her expression enigmatic at best. Adrianna is suddenly fascinated by the nonexistent grain in the plastic table._ _

____

__“He chose not to come back.”_ _

____

__“That’s not-” Gil’s gaze loosens, drifting outward. “That’s not possible. That- he wouldn’t- you-”_ _

____

__“He’s not lying, Laf,” Adrianna interrupts. The look on her face is one of compassion and pain mixed as one, and it thrums on Andrew’s strings._ _

____

__“But Alexander would never-”_ _

____

__“We’re all different than we were.” It’s a deadly whisper. Andrew barely registers that he’s said it before it’s out there, hanging over them all like a cloud of mist. “We must respect the choices he’s made this time around.”_ _

____

__Gil frowns but says nothing more. Adrianna clears her throat._ _

____

__“All right. Well, I think that’s enough for one meeting, right? We don’t want to take up too much of your time, hm, Mrs. M?”_ _

____

__“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Professor Mayhill insists. Her face has a glow to it as she watches on. “This is much better than grading papers, trust me.”_ _

____

__“Adrianna is right. We should pick this up again next week.” Andrew stands, shunting back his chair with a scraping screech. “Thank you all for coming. I hope…” He can’t find it in himself to finish this sentence, so instead he nods and starts packing up his things._ _

____

Gil is the first to leave, out the door with little more than a muttered goodbye. Mayhill follows soon after, that cheeky grin of hers ever-present and her hands fluttering about like agitated butterflies as she waves farewell. Then it’s just Adrianna and himself standing in the center of this whirlpool of _grey table white walls linoleum flooring _. Monochrome on every side.__

____

_____ _

______ _ _

__“That wasn’t awful,” she comments, her tone mild._ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__“Oh?” he asks, disbelief seeping into his tone like a water leak through a ceiling._ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__“You don’t know what Gil looks like when they’re upset. I think they actually like you.”_ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__Andrew’s eyebrows furrow. “That’s what they look like when they like someone?”_ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__Adrianna shrugs and faces him, bookbag slung over one shoulder and hair effortlessly tossed over the other. “You’re not all bad.” A small smile creeps its way onto her face. “Listen, this was… intriguing. We should do it again.”_ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__“Next week?” Andrew doesn’t mean for it to come out as desperate as it does, but he just needs something at this point. An anchor in this sea of stormy grey waves._ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__“Count me in.”_ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

__He breathes out at that, and somehow, inexplicably, feels a little lighter for it._ _

______ _ _

__

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed! I love this song ("Room Where It Happens") so I hope I was able to capture all of Burr/Andrew's desire to belong here, whether it be to political institutions or to friend groups. ;)
> 
> Have a wonderful week and stay safe, stay healthy, and stay fabulous, you sparkling watermelons~! Take care of yourselves and see you next week. <3


	30. Before the Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there is one thing that Burr does best, it is provoke suspicion at all times.

Alex is heading to his Microeconomics class when it happens. It’s supposed to be an uneventful trip, routine, old hat. Insert phrase here. 

And it just so happens that as he is going, he bumps into Andy. His friend isn’t looking too much the worse for wear, although he has a lingering flush in his cheeks and a nervous energy in his posture. Then again, that’s sort of just Andy all the time, so Alex barely notices the differences. Plus, Andy gives Alex a polite enough head bob. No warning signs there, either. Only, Alex has no idea why Andy is in the Lisbon Building today. So, out of curiosity, he asks. 

“What’s up? Where are you off to?” 

Ooo, Andy has to _think _about the answer to that. He takes a full beat, before replying with a pleasant but strangely stilted, “Nothing much. Studying mostly.”__

__Alex tries for a smile. “Sick of the library, huh?”_ _

__“Something like that.”_ _

__That’s shady as hell, but Alex rolls with it. This is Andy. He’s just like that._ _

__“Wanna walk me to class?” he offers._ _

__“Not right now.” It comes out in a rush, and the apologetic look plastered across Andy’s face isn’t taking his suspicious levels down any notches. “Apologies.”_ _

__“No, it’s fine,” Alex assures. Andy nods. They stand there in silence._ _

__At long length, Andy says, “Well, I better be going. Have to… study. Some more.”_ _

__“Okay.”_ _

__“See you around, Alex.”_ _

__“See ya, Andy.”_ _

__With that, he’s gone. A flash of dark hair and darker eyes passes by, and then nothing but bustling hallways are left behind._ _

__It’s all happened too fast. All in a flash, and now Alex is left behind reeling, left holding onto a space in between fact and fiction where he can’t quite discern what is happening._ _

Did Andy just lie to him? _Why? _Was it out of embarrassment (understandable) or mistrust (less understandable)? Alex had thought he’d finally managed to burrow under most of the secretive man’s walls, but maybe there are still barriers between them that he hasn’t got through yet. Maybe Andy is having family problems, or friend problems, or relationship problems, or mental problems, or…__

_____On second thought, Alex still doesn’t know much about his friend. Sure, after the breakdown and then the party and the subsequent weeks of bouncing from friend to friend, meeting to meeting, Alex had started to feel more comfortable with the guy, but nothing’s changed. He still knows nothing about Andy, and yet Andy knows far too much about Alex._ _ _ _ _

Andy has seen Alex at his worst, at his most exhausted and defeated, and while Alex has seen Andy break down before, he still knows nothing about the _why _of it all.__

__Alex continues on toward his Microeconomics class, but as he seats himself in the sloping lecture hall and stares at the professor’s whiteboard scribbles, the last thought on his mind is math. All he can find himself wondering is how _he could have been so careless. _____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh, seems like there is trouble in paradise. Apologies that this was so short, btw, but since it's home song isn't much better, we're gonna roll with this length. Plus, I think it's done everything it needs to.
> 
> Have a lovely week, you wild star-speckled creatures of the void, and I hope to see you all next Saturday (or Sunday, but close enough)~ Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay brilliant!


	31. In Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are a-brewing. People are a-stewing. Memories are a-cueing.

It has been a little less than a week, and Alex’s misgivings have yet to settle down. Really, they’ve only gotten worse in the interim, every moment another opportunity for his overthinking mind to swoop in and make everything seem worse than it actually is. Then again, he’s in the thick of it now, which makes it hard to tell if he really is overexaggerating or not. It’s not like he’s really in a place where he can call himself objective anymore. 

Alex _can _say with certainty that Andy’s behavior hasn’t helped any. A week ago, he was on the path to becoming warmer, more friendly. It felt like they were finally getting used to each other, despite all the false starts and rough patches.__

__Now… Now, Andy is distant. His eyes drift off, his attention wanders. When he does look at Alex, it’s with the ever-so-slightly guilty look of a man rubbernecking at a car crash while continuing to bomb it down the highway. Very much unlike the Andy that Alex is used to, but that’s what he gets, he supposes, for imagining that he could understand someone by their word alone instead of through rigorous examination and research. He’d let himself get complacent, and now he is paying the price in the form of an ebbing fri- allyship._ _

__It’s not even like he thinks he did anything in particular. For once, just this once, he is sure he didn’t. This is just how things are. Friends fade away. That’s just something he has to live with. That doesn’t mean he has to like it, however._ _

__“Do you think those newbies will show up again this week?” Alex is asking as they stride together through the halls of the Lisbon Building. He tries not to think to hard about the last time he was here. He tries not to steep in what Andy is hiding from him. It doesn’t work very well._ _

__“I have no clue, but I suspect so. They seemed partial to the experience,” Andy replies, his gaze stuck ahead._ _

__“What about Lin? Did she say she was visiting again this week?”_ _

__Andy makes an attempt at a shrug. It is simultaneously too stiff and too loose, like a puppet jerked wildly around on its strings. Alex would laugh, but the metaphor for their relationship is just a bit too much. “I heard from Adrianna that she had other plans today.”_ _

__“Oh? Been talking to Adrianna, huh?”_ _

__Andy gives him one of an array of signature Looks he possesses. “She has a girlfriend.”_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__The Look now comes complete with a curious head tilt. “Yes. Morgan.”_ _

__Alex’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, neat. Huh. I had no idea but good for her.”_ _

__“Haven’t you seen the way they interact with each other?”_ _

__Now, it’s Alex’s turn to give Andy a Look. “I think I’ve had approximately one private conversation with Adrianna, and you were there for all the rest. We’re not exactly good friends.”_ _

__Andy seems to consider that. “Ah. Apologies. I guess I’ve been spending more time with her than I realized.”_ _

__Alex tamps his curiosity down rather more forcefully than necessary. “Yeah?”_ _

__“She’s just- She understands some things I’m going through.” Again, the guilty flash across Andy’s face. Again, the gentle stabbing in Alex’s heart and the wringing of his intestines. “We’ve been talking more often recently. But yes, anyhow, she is with Morgan, at least on a casual basis.” Andy pauses, and a small amount of levity coats his voice when he asks, “Does this count as gossiping?”_ _

__That startles a laugh out of Alex. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”_ _

__“No need to patronize.” Andy doesn’t seem to really mind, though. Alex wishes he didn’t either. “Ah, and we’re here.”_ _

__So they are. The door for the classroom stands before them, an immense barrier all of a sudden. Andy slips in without a thought, but Alex has to pause in the doorway. He doesn’t even know why._ _

__Inside, people have already made themselves comfortable. With his legs propped up on a desk and a sparkling hat seeming to touch the ceiling with its peacock-feather-like height, Francis sits at the center of the classroom. He is flanked by the ever-buoyant Charlie whose smile is beginning to look a bit frayed at the edges as he is subjected to the burning stare of Adrianna, who sits across from them both. Mayhill, meanwhile, is at the head of the classroom, the picture of distinction, grace, and barely contained excitement. As soon as she spots the two of them, she is all fluttering hands and eager khaki._ _

__“All right, everyone. Sit down, sit down. I have something special prepared for you all.” She stands up from behind the desk and comes around, hovering in the empty space at the front of the classroom. Everyone crowds around, a rapturous audience casting only a few questioning looks back and forth._ _

__“As you all no doubt know, finals are next week,” she begins. Dread sticks its fingers into Alex’s spine. He’d been trying very hard not to think about that, actually, but thank you for bringing it up. “So this will be our last meeting before break. For those who have just joined, I look forward to seeing you again if that is what you so choose, and for those who have been here throughout this journey, I just wanted to say it has been my absolute honor to serve you. Watching you grow and connect has been an incredible experience, and I look forward to even more of it next year, with even more people and even more debating!”_ _

__There is a light round of claps, initiated by Andy of all people. His gaze doesn’t drift from Mayhill, not for a second. He is transfixed._ _

__“Good, good. Now, onto business. I would love us to do a group activity this week, with one topic up for discussion and partners using their combined knowledge to form and present arguments for or against.” Her sky-blue eyes scrape over the crowd like a putty knife over a shoddy plaster job, stopping and starting on certain faces seemingly at random. “I am aware that this will leave one extra person. Andy, would you mind being the arbiter of this debate?”_ _

__Alex looks over in surprise. Andy seems similarly nonplussed, but he nods, accepting the position with grave solemnity. Alex briefly wonders what Mayhill’s play here is, but then again, she probably just wants to get them out of their comfort zones or some teacher trick like that. Besides, he doesn’t mind Adrianna at all, even if they haven’t hung out much._ _

__“The teams will be…” Mayhill pauses, her flair for the dramatic seeping through the cracks, dangling the words on the tip of her tongue. Finally, she finishes with a grand, “… Adrianna and Charlie, and Francis and Alex.”_ _

__That gets a collective exchanged glance. Adrianna gives Charlie an appraising look. She gives a slight smile. Charlie returns the expression. Francis and Alex make eye contact, neither seeming entirely comfortable with this development but neither sure how to change it. Andy just looks a bit queasy._ _

__“The question being posed is this: Should there be requirements that restrict certain people from running for a position of political power? Adrianna, Charlie, you argue against. Francis, Alex, you are for. You will have ten minutes to prepare an argument with your partner, then each team will get two minutes to give their opening statements. There will be two more minutes after that for responses, back and forth, and so on, and so on. Everyone ready?”_ _

__There is a chorus of agreement, although the stares have not died down. Andy heads over to speak with Mayhill, and the rest of them turn toward their own partners. Alex looks to Francis. His legs are still propped on the desk, but despite the impressive stature of his head piece, his posture seems to be much more diminished in the face of this uncertain precipice._ _

__“So,” Francis starts. He doesn’t continue. Alex offers no comment, his mind whirring behind the façade of his face._ _

__If he’s honest, his opinions on politicians are about the same as an average layman – they are slimy weasels with a place and a purpose – but this debate will require a level of thought into politics that he hasn’t previously considered. What would it feel like to serve a community in such an enormously scrutinized way? What must it feel like to have every misstep, every twitch judged?_ _

__“… what do you think?”_ _

__Alex snaps out of his somewhat hazy reverie to realize that Francis has been speaking. He gives his best impression of sincere apology as he asks, “What’d you say?”_ _

__“I asked if maybe there should be restrictions based on extreme political beliefs. You know, not wanting people in office who think the Illuminati are real, et cetera. You know?” Francis has seemed to have hit his stride while Alex has been off dreaming. His eyes are glinting with a fierce light that reminds Alex of last week, the way the other man had tore into his thoughts before he even had a chance to fully form them in his own head._ _

__It reminds Alex that this man is not only a formidable opponent but a worthwhile ally. If only that weren’t becoming the exception to the rule._ _

__“That’s good, yeah. I mean, that could go both ways, though. You could claim anything was a ‘too-extreme belief.’ Plus, that could get into First Amendment territory real quick.” The ideas pop in and out of Alex’s head like balloons bouncing around a tiny, static-filled room._ _

__“Good point.” Francis chuckles. Something about it is at turns fake and all too real. Those fingers meddling around with Alex’s spine are beginning to hurt. “So what do you think about keeping it to personal feelings mixed up in politics and influencing policy discussions in drastic ways, rather than ‘extreme beliefs’ as you say?”_ _

__Alex mulls it over. “That could work, although you can’t really estimate that before someone has tried running for office. I don’t know, I think we need something a little more concrete here.”_ _

__“What do you suggest, then, darling?”_ _

__“What about restrictions based on social media history on the basis of emotional and leadership maturity?”_ _

__“Well…”_ _

__They continue like this, every word and every step forward in the conversation accompanied by a twitching shiver building its way up Alex’s spine. It’s probably just the nervous energy that comes from prepping a debate. He tries to push it down as he throws idea after idea, each of which is summarily rejected by Francis. In fairness, he’s the same way with Francis’ thoughts. Soon enough, they’re staring down the ticking time bomb of two minutes with nothing to show for their time except a cutting room floor full of thoughts._ _

__Francis sighs, long and explosive. “I don’t know, hun. I think we are both too quick-witted for our own good. We’re not getting anywhere like this.”_ _

Every balloon explodes inside Alex’s head with an ear-splitting _pop! _It’s like a dam springing a leak, one whose walls have been imperceptibly weakening over the course of their conversation. Anger floods into the space between thoughts, filling it up, blurring the line between story and reality. All of a sudden, Alex is so blindingly, overwhelmingly frustrated, and he has no idea where any of it even came from. All Alex wants to do is make this man, this man he barely knows and thought he respected just a second ago, pay.__

_____“I don’t know about that. I thought I had some interesting thoughts back there, but you just dismissed them.” It’s snapped out before he can stop himself. Francis’ face tightens._ _ _ _ _

___“I could say the same for you, darling.” The endearment is bitten out, and whatever remains of Alex’s self-control snaps like a too-taught band._ _ _

___“Well, maybe if you thought a little more reasonably, instead of always assuming that people won’t exploit your policies for their own political gain, then-”_ _ _

___“I apologize for giving humanity a little faith,” Francis says. His eyes are narrowed._ _ _

___Through his blinders of his abrupt, red-hot anger, Alex can tell they are starting to attract the attention of the others. Andy especially is throwing him glances, which only gets his blood boiling further. He is a pot, about to flood over. Finals are right around the corner, and he still feels like a failure in everything he does. He doesn’t enjoy any of it. He doesn’t get any of it. He has gotten nowhere in this semester of turbulent emotions and exhausted defeats, and now the one person who had his back throughout it is drifting away from him bit by bit, and he has no idea what he is going to do._ _ _

___“I’ll have to consider the importance of being as cynical as you while I’m dying in the arms of my husband, rather than alone and friendless,” Francis concludes._ _ _

___Who is this man to stick a pin in Alex’s insecurities as if they are butterflies to be examined on a wall. Alex may have started it, but Francis is trying to finish it, and Alex won’t let him. “Better alone than with someone who secretly hates your pitifully ignorant ass.”_ _ _

___Francis stands up and begins to walk away, as if to end the conversation right there and then. In seconds flat, their conversation has gone from amiable brainstorming to a minefield fraught with explosions of aggression, but Alex isn’t done. He can’t be. What will he do with this endless well of bursting, flowing, overblown emotion if he doesn’t have this? This moment, this burning few seconds of blinding, beautiful rage._ _ _

Or, at least, that’s what Alex would be thinking if he had been thinking at all. Instead, he throws a punch and watches all his _shame-anger-regret-fear-desire _leave their mark.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed, beautiful chicklettes, chickies, and chickens! Happy late Valentine's Day, and see you next week. Until then, stay safe, stay healthy, and stay flippin' brilliant!


	32. Fits of Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which revelations occur, and things go a little sideways... just as always.

The room reels as the punch lands. Andrew’s limbs are trapped in amber as surely as if he is a fly from a time before time. Not even shock can filter into his slow-moving mind until it is too late. Alex’s face flashes with a thousand emotions, and then he is storming from the room. 

The room does not reel this time. It does not shudder or quake. It simply sits in the silence as every party, involved or otherwise, attempts to figure out what on God’s green Earth just happened. 

It’s Charlie who breaks free of this suffocating spell first, snatching up Francis’ elbow and dragging him from the scene of the crime. Francis follows along willingly enough, a hand pressed to his cheek, a fire lighting in his eyes. That’s going to be a problem, no doubt about it, but Andrew has more pressing concerns at the moment. With a quickly flashed look of apology to Adrianna and Mayhill – neither of whom look particularly surprised or pleased – he disappears down the hallway in pursuit of his hot-tempered friend. 

… and comes up entirely empty. No matter where Andrew turns, there is no trace of where Alex has gone. Despite the light dusting of snow coating every piece of exposed pavement, it is a remarkably sunny day, so the campus quad is filled with strangers’ faces to the point of overcrowding. There is no way Andrew is going to be able to make heads nor tails of Alex’s position in this mess, so he retreats back inside Lisbon Building, hoping to at least catch a glimpse of the disappearing duo. 

Figuring out what Francis said to Alex to set him off is critical to determining how badly this whole affair has gone. Although Andrew’s money is on ‘extremely.’ 

***

Thomas makes no attempt to keep the rage off his face. For once, he’s been caught without his mask, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Alex had slapped him. He can’t believe it! That is disrespectful, and rude, and promoting dangerous ideals of masculinity and violence.

Still. Thomas would desperately like to return the favor. It’s only Charlie’s hand on his elbow that keeps him in check, not running off after the kid with a tongue like a whip and a fist like a hammer crashing down on a state fair’s scale. Thomas doesn’t ask where they’re going, instead letting his own whipping tongue off its leash. 

“I cannot believe that man. Can you, darling? I mean, to treat me in such a way! And all because I gave him a compliment. Honestly. The state of American youth these days, it’s ridiculous. What are they teaching them these days?” 

“I’m fairly certain he’s not American, Francis,” Charlie says in a tone that is neither soothing, nor is it meant to be. 

Francis would have appreciated the stern guiding hand. Francis would have appreciated the words of wisdom, just enough to rebuff his needless anger. Francis would have appreciated all the ways that Charlie has learned to handle him when he gets like this. It’s a real shame he’s not around to see it anymore, not really. 

“Well then, why does he act like one? Like a G.I. Joe on television, going around kicking and punching those he disagrees with?” Thomas demands. His blood is boiling, and everything inside him is screaming for revenge. “That boy has some serious anger issues.” 

“You did tell him he was going to die alone,” Charlie reminds in that same flat tone. Thomas’ blood pressure flares. He should want this. He should want his friend to calm him down with reasonable words and a protective hand on his elbow, just as always. Instead, he shrugs the hand off and backs away. 

“If you want to take his side, go ahead. I need to be getting back to my dorm, anyhow,” he says. 

He is being petty, he knows. He can’t help it. There is a voice hissing deep inside his core, whispering to him about where Charlie’s loyalty truly lies. It feels like so long since they last flowed together like they used to, long enough that Charlie has found his own friends and priorities. Perhaps he’s moved on from Thomas in that time, as well. Perhaps Thomas has moved on from him. 

“Francis.” 

“I’m sorry, Charlie,” Thomas says, his other name still echoing wrong in his head and driving a fresh wedge between them, “I just need space. I’ll see you later.” 

He turns on his heel and begins to walk off, wishing that he didn’t sound so angry to his friend. He’s the one being ridiculous right now, he knows, but getting himself to cool down would take too long. By then, he’d have already wrecked whatever’s left between them. 

Better to just run. 

“Are you okay, Francis? Can I help?” 

Oh, Charlie. Always with the questions. Thomas doesn’t need those either, as much as he wants to want them. He just can’t bring himself to be the person Charlie knew, that much is clear to him now. Either he needs to tell his best friend that he used to be terrible, influential old white man in another life… or he needs to give them some space. 

He knows what his choice would be, in any lifetime. 

***

Charlie watches his friend walk off, helpless to stop him. It feels as though the world is crumbling around this one moment in time, and he is helpless to stop any of it. Why is it all falling apart now? Francis has been acting so strangely all week, and now this. Why is it all unraveling at the seams – what has he done wrong? 

There is a reasonable explanation. Of course. But Charlie refuses to believe it, just as he refuses to believe that the boy in the classroom is so familiar to him, that all of them are. Just as he refuses to believe that this is the breaking point between him and his best friend. They aren’t done yet. They still have so much to do, together. 

“Francis? Can we please just talk?” It’s a plea more than a question, but it serves its purpose. It gets Francis to stop walking, although he doesn’t turn around. 

From behind, the fabulous streaks of purple and blue, the sunrise of pink and gold in his makeup, the deep brown of his curls – all are obscured. All that is left is a shadow of a man, of a friend. Charlie needs to find out why, if it kills him. 

“What about?” It’s quiet, far too quiet for the man Charlie knows. 

“What is going on inside that mind of yours.” 

“You don’t need to-” Francis cuts himself off, curling into himself. Charlie’s found it. A loose thread, which might unravel it all for good, but which might, at last, grant him a little peace. Perhaps even the presence of an old friend. 

“I do.” It’s spoken into the silence like a prayer. 

Francis shifts. Charlie wishes he could see his face. “I can’t, darling. I just can’t.” 

“You don’t have to,” Charlie says, carefully. He is offering an olive branch and an abyss, both extended with the hope that Francis will choose the right one. It’s not a leap of faith, but an offer of trust. A test of a bond forged through the fires of a lifetime spent together, possibly more. “But you must know that it won’t matter, even if you do. I will still be your friend, as long as you still want to be mine.” He plasters a soft smile onto his face, and genuinely means it. 

“You don’t know what I’m going to say. I could have murdered someone.” It doesn’t sound like a joke, but then again, they’ve all done their fair share of murdering in their lifetimes. 

Besides, Charlie is fairly sure he does know what his friend is going to say, if he’s very, very lucky. He replies with a steady, “Even then.” 

“You’re a fool.” 

Charlie doesn’t feel like much of a fool as his friend turns to face him. Seeing his face again is like a sunrise after a long night. “I know.” 

“Are you certain, hun?” Francis’ eyes scan Charlie’s face, his voice hiding behind the sweet shield of endearments and false bravado. Charlie knows what lies beyond, so he doesn’t prod this wall of brittle sawdust. He simply takes a step forward. 

“Yes.” It would never be a question. 

Francis inhales deeply. “Well, dear, I should tell you. When I was in France, I realized, well, this is going to sound ridiculous, but I am-” 

“Thomas!” The cry cuts through Francis’ words as cleanly as a knife through butter, a sword through skin. It slices apart Charlie’s lungs just as neatly, causing his breath to come rushing out in a torrent. Of course. 

Both of their eyes flick in unison to take in the man behind Charlie, the one with the impenetrable face and the intense eyes. The one who calls himself Andrew. Of course. 

“Oh.” Andrew looks stunned, sheepish, and ashamed all at once. He begins backing down the hallway once more. “Apologies. I thought I saw- well, I mean- just thought I saw a friend, or-” 

“I’m flattered that you ever thought of me as a friend,” Francis says in a deadpan, and Charlie’s heart stops. Of course. 

Andrew stares at him. Charlie can practically see the gears churning away inside that head of his. They don’t seem to be forming a very pretty picture. “Oh. Ah. So, you really are-” 

“Yes.” Francis- Thomas flashes a glance at Charlie that could be apologetic or afraid or any number of things. Charlie doesn’t have the strength to give him anything in return, although he knows he should. He knows their connection is fragile, tenuous, and he wants to fix it. But it’s all a little much. Please leave a message, and he’ll call back later. 

“Right.” Andrew looks genuinely taken aback. It’s an odd look on him. “And you are-?” He looks to Charlie, and Charlie doesn’t need to be skilled with social perception to realize that Andrew already knows the answer to his own question before he’s even asked it. 

“Yes,” he confirms anyway, and now it’s Thomas staring. 

“Wait, so you mean to say-?” he begins, but he is cut off once again by Andrew. 

“Have I come at a bad time? Should I-?” 

“No, you might as well stay.” Thomas waves a hand at him, ever the tired diplomat. “Now, Charlie, are you saying that- am I getting this right, dear, that you are-” 

“James Madison?” Charlie fills in. He gives his best attempt at a brilliant smile, and just manages to pull it off. “Yes, I am. It’s good to see you again.” 

Of all the things to happen in that moment, he didn’t expect to be scooped up into a hug by the significantly taller Thomas, but he does not in any way mind. He returns the embrace and is eternally thankful that Andrew or Burr or whoever he is decides to mind his own business and allow them this. Allow them this long moment of understanding. 

“I thought you didn’t know,” Thomas whispers into Charlie’s neck. 

“I told you there would be no getting rid of me,” Charlie mutters back, joy soaking into the crevices of his mind despite the ridiculous nature of the situation. Who knew it would be those two of all people who would draw them together again, in this world and the last. 

Thomas puts Charlie back down, to Charlie’s mild disappointment, but there will be more time for that later. For now, both of them focus on the third member of this haphazard party. 

Andrew has settled on sheepishness as the core of his expression. To emphasize this point, he is picking at his nails and looking very much like he wants to be anywhere but here. Yet still, he stays. Charlie appreciates the gesture, if only because he doesn’t know if he would have the focus to track him down again if he left now. 

Once he’s noticed that they are paying attention to him again, Andrew straightens and clears his throat. “Since introductions have been made on your ends, I think it’s time I should-” 

“I think you’re all right, honey. We both know you’re Burr,” Thomas cuts across. 

“Oh yeah, it was pretty obvious,” Charlie adds, edging a little closer toward Thomas’ side. Of course. 

“Really, it’s a surprise anyone doesn’t know,” Thomas continues. 

Andrew/Burr doesn’t look too happy about this. “I’ll be sure to take note of that.” 

“So, _dear friend _,” Thomas begins.__

 _ _“What do you want?” Charlie finishes.__

 _ _Andrew sighs. “Well, you both being on the level is unexpected but at least convenient for what comes next.”__

 _ _“Which is? We don’t have time for your vague riddles, Burr,” Thomas says with a barely perceptible smirk on his lips. God, Charlie missed this him.__

 _ _Andrew’s gaze turns piercing. “I need to know what you said to Alex to make him remember you.”__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Stay safe, stay healthy, and try your best to be content, you lovely dandelion floofs! I'll see you all next week for even more hilariously awkward moments of dramatic irony. We profit off their suffering.


	33. I Shall Also Carry With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A consideration on time and one's placement within it, on advisers and advising, and on the joys of seeing old friends again, no matter the context.

The smile on her face is misplaced and would most likely be misunderstood, if anyone were around to misunderstand it. 

It’s not that she’s happy about the chaotic floundering of this particular group of students. Quite the opposite. It’s just that it’s been such a long time since she’s seen them in the flesh, and she will readily admit that she missed them. Even that Andy boy – even he is a sight for sore eyes, and that’s saying something. What, she doesn’t know. 

Perhaps she’s desperate. Perhaps she’s seeking out affection from places in which it no longer dwells. Perhaps she needs to end this little social experiment and go back to life as it was. 

Then again, she is having quite a nice time watching them rehash old feuds, and in watching over them, she can make sure no one is going to do anything silly that they’ll live to regret this time around. She owes them that much, she feels, for not being there last time to cease their incessant in-fighting and bitter rivalries. She owes them enough that she’s willing and eager to guide, to mentor these twin clubs. To see where she can lead them through subtle pushes and gentle shoves. Somewhere peaceful, she hopes. They don’t necessarily deserve it, but they do need it. Besides, who’s to say who deserves what at the end of the day, anyway? 

She doesn’t feel like she’s gotten what she deserves. So many dead. So many enslaved. So many preventable problems all at the tips of his fingers, and all he had done was sit on the throne that he pretended not to enjoy, and watched. 

Not this time. 

This time she will act, when the time comes for it. And come it shall, if that upstart in every lifetime has anything to say about it. She hopes she gets to see him again, after all of this drama is resolved. Really see him. It doesn’t seem like what he needs, though, so she lets the thought drop away. He’s been smiling more these days, perhaps because of dear, odd Andy. 

“What do you think, Mr. Ribbit?” she asks the stuffed frog perched at the front of her desk, hidden behind a pencil holder. The toy does not respond, and she wonders if she’s losing it. For a moment there, she’d thought it might. Perhaps she needs to make her therapy appointments weekly, rather than monthly. 

Then again, she always has been her own best adviser (and her own worst one, in equal measure). Once she’d had others to guide her, to watch her back, to maintain the banal bits of life so he didn’t have to focus on them. Now she is on her own. She is learning to be her own person without the pressure of who she is supposed to be, perhaps for the first time. It is difficult not to have someone else at her side, but she is managing. She is adapting to the absence. She is becoming something she’d never thought she could be – a teacher. An adviser in her own right. A friend to herself and others, without the looming weight of something impossibly huge ever cluttering up her mind. 

She is transforming into a normal human being, and that scares her perhaps more than anything else from any life. 

It’s happened slowly, slightly, by inches. It has taken years for her to even realize what it all meant. Now that she has, she can’t put it out of her mind, for better or worse. So, she keeps coming back to this desk, to this club, to these people, in the vain hope that they will provide an anchor through this never-ending storm, without them even realizing it’s raging. And if they cannot, at least she can provide an anchor for them instead of watching and waiting and witnessing them be torn apart by their own threatening thunderclouds and washing waves. 

She shifts in her chair, hardly a throne, and reminds herself one more time of the topic for her upcoming lecture. With one last glance and one last soft smile at the room around her, the sight of yet another battlefield of mistrust, she stands. She makes her way down the spiraling stairs and out into the wide world of corridors, skyscrapers, and endless doors, heading inexorably toward the classroom for American History. She comes to a stop before all the expectant faces, nothing and everything like the soldiers of old, and smiles. It is not misplaced, nor misunderstood here, under the green-tinged bulbs, but it is exactly as genuine. 

“Good afternoon, class!” 

“Good afternoon, Professor Mayhill,” they echo dully. Her smile only grows. 

Perhaps it’s not what she deserves. But it is what she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay safe, stay healthy, and stay bright and brilliant, you cocky, cranky, kooky sons of bitches and bitches of sons! Until next time.


End file.
